Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'
by SetsunaKou
Summary: If love can thaw a Frozen heart, could love be the magic to save a lost soul? As Anna & Kristoff marry 2 years into Arendelle's future, could Queen Elsa be the queen of Hans' heart? Add Rapunzel & Flynn Rider, plus adventure & fun found on the high seas with ancient mysteries unfurling their masts that could change God's glorious landscape of the Land of the Midnight Sun forever...
1. Frozen Again: Prologue - Summer

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Prologue:**

"**Summer's End"**

_Cold. Inside, I'm so cold…_

It was conversely a warm day for this uneventful summer in the year of our Lord 1851 upon the idyllic rolling waves of the Scandinavian seas.

Visions of spired castles rise on the shining horizon. Beautiful tapestries line the hallowed vaulted ceilings and magnificently decorated walls as the wide double doors wordlessly swing open for him. Gold-gilt furniture that includes a kingly throne greets his eyes upon trumpeted arrival.

Endless days and countless dreams for a comely well-bred boy spent in leisure on horseback roaming freely the perfectly groomed gardens or glorious hills of the Kingdom of Denmark.

A young lad with deep ambitions holds his noble chin high amidst the sandstone pavilions, elegant statue adorned marble bridges, and massive complex of royal stables filled with steeds who shared in the liberating wind that blew through every part of his masterful youthful soul, destined for greatness...

* * *

><p>Shaking off the illusionary blue sky and green grass mirage seen via his mind's eye alone, this same young man never imagined peeling potatoes in the dank smelly galley of a sullied rat-infested ship would be in his vaulted line of vocation.<p>

_My brothers always did have a demented sense of humor concerning me._

Prince Hans of the Southern Danish Isles still had the good humor enough to chuckle to himself in the foul stenched darkness as he replays the 'sentencing phase' of his twelve older brothers passing judgement for his crimes – odious as they may be, in the benefit of hindsight reflection - against their neighboring Norwegian country's kingdom just beyond the true blue North Seascape called 'Arendelle", in all its shimmering magical glory, now far beyond his reach….

_Ah, Arendelle…such a radiant light beneath all that wondrous ice…_


	2. Chapter 1 - A Fresh New Morning Awaits

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 1**

"**A Fresh New Morning Awaits"**

.

By way of a seagull, we fly over the Scandinavian oceans and winding isles to the south, its sea-dipped pure white wings iridescent as they catch every shiny ray of a dazzling sun over of freshly new awakening world.

It was nearing the end of the cherished short summer in the land of the midnight sun, whose icy dress, for few ephemeral moments, melt into the valleys beneath the yet snowcapped mountains, as the curious seagull peeks its head through the inviting palace window…

_Knock Knock Knock_

Pause.

_Knock Knock Knock_

Silence comes the only reply for an extremely patient, very kindly, hope springs eternal plump woman who always held the air of childlike freshness that the royal family of the Norwegian kingdom of Arendelle has been fortunate to employ in their service for the past 30 odd years as both palace housekeeper and unofficial royal nanny, not to mention quiet powerhouse who has kept this Arendelle sovereignty's royal house going through the good times and the bad.

_Oh, dear Lord Jesus, bless their poor souls with your peace._

After a moment spent in devout silent sorrowful prayer for that which would certainly class as the bad times in Arendelle, Gerda, who had tasted now and then more than a few days of the bad in the past herself, as the dutiful and loving servant, still dusted every morning their rooms, along with the black curtained portraits that she and Kai had drawn over their beloved rulers that terrible day when beloved Queen Idun and her loving husband, Arendelle's King Agdar, were lost to their nation nearly five years ago.

Compassionate Gerda would still pause in respectful memory for the kingdom's departed leaders on that fateful final journey beyond the fjord's safety through the Skagerragat Straight, Kattegat Bay, or the Baltic Sea - one of the vast volumes of water to the South in between Arendelle's coast on their trip to Prussia where another royal daughter, the Queen's niece, was celebrating a joyous day amidst Arendelle's grief –

A royal wedding the King and Queen's storm-tossed shipwrecked vessel never arrived at.

_Sigh_

_A royal wedding! Gird up, Gerda! Spit-spot, busy day! Lots to be done!_

The stout-hearted lady claps her hands together, and brushes both a stray hair and stray matching tear back in place.

"Princess Anna! You get up right this minute!" In her sweet, yet commanding tones, Gerda calls through the closed bedroom door of the younger of the two royal siblings who were both the pride and joy of Arendelle's people. For the two now come of age young girls who had shown their mettle in selfless sacrifice and the triumph of sisterly love not two years ago, were all the pride and joy the kingdom had left with both their parents deceased.

_Sigh_

_And now my little Anna is growing up…_ Gerda had long felt an affinity with this very bright, sprightly girl who traversed a long and dangerous journey out of friendship and love for another in peril, as the older woman herself had for her sweet Kai all those years ago.

_It seems just like yesterday..._ Busy hands that needed to constantly move neaten the fresh spray of flowers from her garden displayed in a vase on the nearby windowsill.

And as if right on cue, he appears, and Gerda shares a shining eyed smile full of matronly pride with the Butler/footman/court official and everything that had to be done in between older gentleman, the love of her life named Kai as he peeks his strawberry blonde, turned more carroty over the years since their own youthful adventures, nearly balding head around the long hall's corner. He gives his wife a rather toothy grin and inquisitive look on his jovial foppish face, to which Gerda simply affords her fellow servant, whom the king and queen allowed to stay on even when the rest of the Castle was shut off from the world, a smile and nod in response before going back to her job of waking up the sound sleeping beauty whose loud snoring could be heard audibly beyond the door.

"Princess Anna! Have you ever heard of the bride being late for her own wedding!?"

Placing frustrated hands on her ample hips, Gerda authoritatively shames the dizzy young girl as she did when Anna was small, letting some familial teasing mix with her duty on this happiest a felicitous mornings.

Gerda twirls the well-tended white bloom between her fingers, remembering being a new bride herself given the gift of Kai and his white rose back by the Good Lord above, Who watches over all little lost children who believe in Him.

_Big yawn_

"Huh? Bride…? Who's getting married?..._snore_"

_Yawn, Mouth smack, smack, sleepy head jerk!_

"You are, little Anna." She could hear the playful condescension in Gerda's tone through the closed door.

"Whoa! That's me! What time is it?! Wow! I'm gonna be a **bride** today!"

"Whoo-wee! But not looking like this! Elsa! That is one bad hair day! Elsa! Help me!"

Sounds of noisy chaos and clumsy tripping over bed sheets and general crashing to the floor is accompanied by panicked yet deliriously joyous giggling, all signaling the girl was awake and ready to attend her own wedding at long last.

Both caring Gerda and faithful Kai shake their amused heads at what a lively day awaited them all, if Princess Anna, the girl who put the sparkle back in every soul in Arendelle's eye, had any say to it.

* * *

><p>The dragonstil architecture of the high vaulted ceiling in the medieval wooden slatted interior rosemail design paneled Chapel Cathedral stave church was the highest spire in all of Arendelle Castle. It was even higher and more auspicious than either the tower on the East side, whose cylindrical roof made of ornate carved stone housed the royal family's quarters, library and balcony, or the West wing's thick protruding stone tower that held the Council Chamber, Great Hall and Portrait Room.<p>

_And that's how it should be._

For the ruler of this kingdom called 'Arendelle' was also the head of the Church of Norway, same as it was for some 800 years since the honorable King Olaf II, the country's canonized 'Saint Olaf', achieved.

The former Viking king converted to Christianity in his youth and he ruled in wisdom, justice, simplicity and piety in order to unify all of Norway under Christ and subsequently, leading to the Christianization of the entire Scandinavian region, thus giving Norway's first Christian ruler the name of 'Holy Protector and Eternal King of Norway.'

"_Faith like light should be simple and unbending; while love, like warmth, should beam forth on every side and bend to every necessity of our brethren."_

Queen Elsa of Arendelle understood well the truth behind the words of that holy man of God, Martin Luther, when he spoke of light and warmth, the meaning of which still seared into the ice of her regretful soul.

After her rebellion against the forces thriving within her had caused a maelstrom of trouble for this kingdom, her utterly good and sweet little sister had to shine brightly with her effervescent light and endless belief in her older sibling to bring them both out of the cold loneliness and into the warmth of love's light.

"Anna, it was your unfailing spirit that brought me back again."

Since then, every waking second, every dream-filled night, Elsa, as she learned to control her growing powers for good, would still beg forgiveness for her willful transgressions from not only that faithful and ever-loving little sister, but also from the one true God, who she, in her fear and pain, had turned her face from—though He never turned His from hers.

"_Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be made as white as snow…" Isaiah 1:8_

Recalling this particular passage being read a long time ago by her own beloved father from the pulpit one Sunday mass morning in this very chapel, his loving eyes meeting hers across the room, a grateful tear for the Lord above's infinite forgiveness of past sin falls to her cheek as cascades of the stunningly beautiful girl's platinum blond hair ripple over her bowed head in deep study of the Bible held in her trembling hands while the enchanting strains of 'Fairest Lord Jesus' begin to play above her.

Unbeknownst to the young woman who secretly crept into the chapel sanctuary early every morning to devote her once confused mind and heart to the stability of the Lord's word that brought her such peace and tranquility as it had to Sainted King Olaf, all those centuries ago, just then, from the upper central knave several floors above the raised roof trusses, the choir begins their practice run for the special holy ceremony to take place in the chapel today.

Queen Elsa wipes the tears from her enchanting icy blue eyes as the choir members, not seeing their royal sovereign in the furthest corner of the church pews where one's candlelight was her only company beyond the Lord, start to sing their parish's signature, most favorite hymn, Deilig er Jorden…. 'Fairest Lord Jesus.':

["Deilig er Jorden!  
>Prægtig er Guds Himmel!<br>Skjøn er Sjælens Pilgrimsgang!  
>Gjennem de favre<br>Riger paa Jorden  
>Gaae vi til Paradis med Sang!]<p>

_["Lovely it is on the Earth!_

_Glorious in God's Heaven!_

_Wondrous__is the soul's pilgrimage!_

_Through the great kingdoms on earth_

_We go to Paradise with song!]_

"Please, dearest Lord, give Your blessing on my beloved little sister today, and all her days to come, be filled with Your eternal song." Elsa bows her head in prayer, before subtly leaving the chapel, making the sign of the Cross as she goes.

* * *

><p>"<em>For the first time in forever, there'll be a wedding filled with light!<em>"

A pure sweet voice rings in perfect musical key through the pristine blue sky, as a young girl thrusts a window in the west side of Arendelle Castle open, to greet the morning, to the soaring birds floating above the sparkling waters of fjord.

"_For the first in forever—this corset's totally way too tight…_!" All the romance in the clear, crisp day's entrance is lost in a second, as Princess Anna makes a sour note to match her sour face. Her already too tight corset doesn't want to cooperate with her heaving and huffing body, in the attempt to fasten up the stays.

"Silly! I don't you not to gorge yourself on all those chocolates and frosted fyrstekake cookies last night." Big sister Elsa comments with a small chuckle at her younger sibling's late night antics of stuffing her face full of sweet treats, till her cheeks were akin to a chipmunk's.

"But I was so hungry….and Gerda bakes a mean marzipan!" Anna whines, recalling the sugary confection her loving servant had a knack for baking.

"You can say that again! They were way too good to pass up! I must've had a half dozen myself!" A young woman with brown cropped hair pops her pretty perky head up from behind the bed where she had dropped a hairpin. "You've got to get Gerda to give me that recipe!"

"Yum…!" Anna and their Prussian cousin, hailing from the kingdom of Corona, come to visit for the big event, both had a secret weakness for sweets and sugary cookies and chocolate on top, to boot. "How could we resist?!"

"I adore marzipan! Yummy….!" Both girls were delirious with sweet treats dancing in their heads as they simultaneously sway back and forth all a-smile.

"Look at you two!" Elsa too smiles through gritted teeth, as she quite physically has a workout herself, giving another valiant attempt at lacing up Anna's corset laces. She even uses her own well-turned knee as helpful chameleon, Pascal, finishes looping the straps to keep the ties taught and in place before achieving closure.

"Well, I think those cookies were a bit too much for this corset! There!" Elsa gives a pent up sigh of relief as she bows the final criss-cross link on the corset shut.

"Wow, I wish I had a big sis to dress me up for my wedding. Price of being an only child, I guess. You're lucky, Anna!" The brown haired cousin had been kept busy artistically arranging Anna's orangey hair with a wreath of gold-pressed flowers and a fresh spray of white and red roses, picked fresh from the garden.

"Whoa! You look like you're gonna pop, cousin!" Rapunzel notes, with Anna's green eyes reflecting in hers, looking quite frantic.

"Can I breathe yet?" Anna barely whispers, her tone thin and wispy as she's been holding her breath all this time.

"Of course you have to breathe, Anna!" Elsa leaves her work on Anna's corset and takes her little sister's shoulders, gasping for air, with alarm on her own pale features when she sees her sister's normally ruddy and fresh face, all tinted purple from lack of oxygen. "Just take small breaths."

_Whooosh!_

Anna does as told and sucks in a tiny little morsel of breath, but after a few seconds of light-headed panic, she can't help herself from indulging in a larger exhale. The result of the larger amount of air her lungs had been yearning for, was not a pretty picture as Pascal's big, big eyes bulge out and he covers them with his hands, turning his body into a scared yellow color.

_Pop! Pop! Pop!...Pop!_

One by one, the corset straps indeed let go. Buttons and clasps flying everywhere, like bullets, as Anna nearly doubles over with the expelled relief, as the deflated corset sinks to her knees, much to Elsa's dismay.

"Who needs that stupid thing anyway?! I never liked them! I bet my dress will fit just fine without it!" In true Anna fashion, she impulsively kicks off the despised article of clothing, and it flings out the open window, carried by the wind and as if by cosmic design, it lands on the head of a certain, tall young man, messing his 'unmanly' blonde mane as he gives a high-pitched yelp, scaring a poor Sven when he realizes what the lacy, cream colored bit of cloth and bone represented.

"Don't ask me. I wear mine on the outside." Rapunzel sings as she tries to stay out of the sisters' lively bantering. She truly wished she had a sister herself, all those years in the empty past, spent in that tower.

"Oh, never mind…Anna, every bride requires her trousseau to be complete. It's part of the entire marriage tradition. Besides, you'll be on display before all of Arendelle today. Don't you want to look your best?" Elsa, though far from wicked vanity, always had an elegant style and deep sense of fashion, like her dear mother before her. Queen Idun, had been known throughout the kingdoms of Europe for her grand and sophisticated panache of classic clothing choices. And today was the day Anna would wear her mother's most cherished garment - her Mama's beautiful wedding dress.

"Well, Kristoff is the only one I need to look at me today. And I know he wouldn't care if I was wearing Sven's smelly old dropsack! He'd marry me anyway! He'd love me no matter what." A hopeless romantic, Anna blissfully wraps a sheet from her messy, unmade bed around her nearly naked form, save for the traditional light blue undergarments, since ancient Norwegian suspicion demanded that both bride and groom had to wear for their wedding night to ward off the Devil.

"Ooh, that's a weird thought! Not Kristoff in pale blue undies, but the Devil being scared of it! ….Ah, don't go there yet!" Anna says aloud to herself while drooling over her would-be husband.

"I felt the exact same way with Eugene! Isn't love grand?!" _Sigh_

Rapunzel hugs her cousin's neck as the two share a dreamy sigh of their respective male counterparts. Neither realized though, in their feminine fancies, that the third young woman in the room knew none of this type of love's great mysteries. Elsa smiled with a trace of sadness on her as yet-untouched-by-romance's-kiss lips.

_All those years we each lived in seclusion. All those years you were lost and still managed to find true love, shows that happy endings do happen to even sheltered girls like us._

She watches with proud sentimentality as her baby sister recklessly leans out the window with that 'I'm a girl in love' look on her every feature, causing Elsa to capitulate that dreaded corset as a discarded miscreant not invited to the wedding.

She knew that the free spirit who was Anna epitomized the very essence of zest and vivaciousness, along with a plentiful dose of liveliness and verve to go with her boundless energy—none of which could ever be squeezed in by a confining corset.

_Unlike dull me. I could wear my corset all day._

Elsa, though being the 'good girl she had to be', simply because she wanted to be good, every now and then, could feel days when corsets were too restricting herself.

_Maybe Anna is wise than I in that respect as well._

Anna catches sight of a certain blonde fiancé, who thankfully, busy talking to himself, doesn't see her, as his clumpy boots pace back and forth in the gardens below her window, Elsa had watches her youthful sister with affection at her very Anna-like outburst.

Anna gasps, jumps back, and hides her reddened face in flowery sheets, giggling uncontrollably, trying to curtail her girlish fantasies and hurriedly pulls on her mother's ornate champagne colored brocade wedding dress over her traditional light blue bloomers, treating the special gown as if it were no more than an outdoor summer frock, rather than the exquisite fur trimmed gold crocus designed wedding gown she always dreamed of donning one day, and she shakes herself back to cold reality.

_Splat splat splat_

Literally.

"Olaf!" Unsuitably jaw-dropped in her dazzling formal attire, Anna screeches the name of her adorable snowman friend, who, through Elsa's kindness and honed control of her frosty prowess, had his own personal 'snow flurry' to keep him all in one unmelted piece, above his head continually.

Loving surprises, every morning as a wake-up call, Olaf would be mischievous enough, picking up a naughty thing or two from Kristoff and Sven's antics, to toss a few tiny snowflakes in through the open window, to land on Anna's freckly nose, as he greeted his favorite ladies every morning, rain or shine, and generally at the most inopportune of times. He made his snowy entrance their chilly alarm clock that late sleeper Anna usually needed.

But it was totally not necessary today! Anna squiggles her upturned nose at the melty snowflakes dripping down her face. She, as per usual, goes at Olaf in a spirited 'snowball' fight involving tossed pillows and stuffed toys laying amply about her room since childhood.

"I'm REALLY gonna get you this time, Olaf!" Careless of her handmade garb, and Rapunzel's unfinished hairstyling, Anna dashes away, weaving about the room and crashing into every piece of furniture with her big frilly gown, even as a chuckling Olaf bobs and weaves from her fervent grasp.

"Ohhh! So this is Olaf?! I've heard so much about you, Olaf! This is Pascal." The too-sane chameleon waves slowly, his two eyes blinking at the raucous snowman.

"I'm so pleased to meet you! I'm Rapunzel, Elsa and Anna's cousin." She smiles, offering a hand to his twigs.

"I'm pleased to meet you too—ohhhhh!" Olaf slides across the wood floor to smash into the mirror until fortunately it was he and not the 7 year bad luck glass that splits apart.

"Here, Anna, catch!" Playful Rapunzel tosses Olaf's squirming body away from his head that tumbles across the floor with a pair of spazzed out eyes rolling. She was enjoying this fun 'game' of un-building a snowman.

"Cousin Rapunzel! Anna! Olaf! Stop this! ANNA! You're going to ruin your—dressssss~!" A frustrated Elsa attempts to be the 'big sister' of the soon-to-be-bride and older, already married cousin, who were both acting like eight-year-olds, _or less_, with snowman buddy cohort.

Their elder cousin having joined in the fray of throwing things, as well as Olaf, through the air, didn't help one bit, as Anna and her snowman run around in dizzy circles about the room.

A tossed pillow sham landed right in Elsa's face, resulting in her tripping on Anna's dashing about, flailing gold trimmed train, causing the elder sister, sleek in her filmy purple bridesmaid dress, to go dangerously face forward towards the lit fireplace that was blazing, despite the unusually warm summer weather. (Actually 62 degrees today! Which was way warm for Norway at any time of the year.)

Elsa protectively puts up her hands to shield her face, and in doing so, throws out a quick flurry of soft powdered snow that not only subdues the raging fire in the fireplace to ash, but also coats the disembered firelogs with many layers of snow to create a cushion to break her fall.

_Oof!_

Elsa breathes into the frozen particles on her reddened, yet further unharmed, cheek.

"Wow! That was amazing! I wish I could do that!" Rapunzel comments, now seeing her cousin's superpowers that she'd heard so much about, first-hand.

"Elsa?! You okay?!"

"Yes, Anna, I'm fine." Elsa, with Pascal's web-toed aid, quietly rumbles as she dusts her long lavender sleeves off, as a meek Anna and curious Rapunzel help her up, one arm each, guiltily sharing relieved, toothy and plucky smiles with Olaf, who raises his two stick arms quite innocently.

"But you three are in trouble now!" Elsa doesn't want to forget the fun of this final hour of being just two sisters unattached to anyone but each other, as she sends a cascade of ice crystals, so fine and well aimed, they'd not hurt a baby's soft backside, but they would be chilly enough to 'punish' her willful younger sister and over-friendly cousin, who acted just like another sister—another younger sister, at that.

A wily Rapunzel, who'd learned a thing or two from someone she was pretty close to about dodging and weaving, moves away from the flurrious attack, but Anna was not so nimble on her bare feet as her older 'cuz.

"Cold, cold, cold, cold, COLD…!" Anna squeals again as Elsa mischievously sprinkles the crystals down her sister's delicately designed rosemaling pattern bodice. Anna pulls the dress front half down as Elsa then turns to direct a blast of ice shards at a whistling out the window Olaf. The sneaky snowman was immediately shot with hundreds of ice bullets and he dramatically pretends to fall down dead in the windowsill, even though 'death by impaling' or mountain tossing couldn't kill this immortal man of snow; and in his overacting, actually does tumble from the high window of the castle's west wing.

"ANNA! Is something wrong up there?! I saw ice from the window, and ice spheres and snow flurries and then Olaf fell out the window! Are you all right?! Whoa…" Kristoff, from his pacing wanderings below, had industriously climbed and scaled the castle's spires to reach his affianced bride in unknown danger to courageously come to her rescue, but now, as he peers his big head through the window, he was in full view of seeing his Anna needed nothing but to get the rest of her wedding dress back on.

"Yeah…you look all…all right…" Honest, simple Kristoff stumbles over both words and balance as he bashfully lowers his bewitched eyes from glimpsing his sweet Anna in such a state of undress that he clumsily falls back down from the roof he just heroically scrambled up. Luckily, he slides and bounces on his sturdy bottom until he reaches the safety of the ground, wedding suit and cravat tie and all, atop a smushed snowman, fortuitously placed there to break his fall.

"…And my neck, if I had one." Olaf chuckles in dismay.

"KRISTOFF!" Anna rushes to the windowsill, her pale blue bloomers and undergarments on display to the whole courtyard, thankfully there was no one present but aforementioned bridegroom, who immediately gets to his feet and skedaddles along with the squashed snowman in tow.

"I'll see you later?! Bye, Sven, bye, Olaf!" Anna simply waves, wiggling her fingers at his quickly retreating form.

"Hey, he's cute! Nice legs! Muscles, too." Rapunzel compliments Anna's choice in groom as she quite sisterly tickles Anna's open tummy, causing her to giggle gleefully, and the anxiety of the embarrassing moment passed quite into humor now.

Generous-hearted Rapunzel then reaches out to tickle Elsa, too, seeing both sisters could use an extra smile just then. Elsa smiles as she just manages to squeak out of being squeezed between a sisterly trio, with Anna thoroughly enjoying the open love and affection of her family.

"And he'll be brideless in one hour if we can't be more serious here! Anna, dress! Cousin, hair! Let's get this wedding on the road!" She lets herself giggle and chatter with the other two, like one of the girls, as all three lovely ladies busy themselves at the joyful task of transforming one sweetly charming, yet plucky and at times, awkward, littlest princess into a blushing, beaming, beautiful bride…

* * *

><p><em>Speaking of blushing…<em>

Kristoff still couldn't have turned any shade redder than the similar colored, vibrant, wild-gooseberries that grew big and juicy in the gardens by the back entrance to the chapel where he was dejectedly plopped on the ground.

"How was I supposed to know she was practically undressed?!" Large, manly hands shielded his mortified eyes that had seen too much, too soon, in shame. The burly blonde tries to justify to himself and Sven his recent embarrassing action to the summer skies empty blue ethers.

"But it's never good manners to peek in a girl's bedroom window! Cliff and Bulda taught you that!" 'Sven' counters in his funny, warpy voice, as the droopy eyed reindeer continues to merely chew on the berry bush, one furry eyebrow raised.

"I know! I know! But I thought she was danger! Cut me a break, Sven!" Kristoff answers (his own conscience) blaming the innocent beast for his self recriminations.

"Now Anna will think you're some dirty, peeping Tom! How's that to start a marriage!" 'Sven' queries Kristoff's frustration at his own awkwardness with the opposite sex.

"Now that depends on what you thought of what you've just seen." A smooth voice enters the conversation. Kristoff looks up over Sven's hulking dark taupe and beige fur form, chewing berries and his cud, above his confused, ashamed head.

"Hey, there, big guy. Nice knees." The tall, dark man, wearing a dark purple and grey tunic complete with a regal brown sash and debonair demeanor, appears out of nowhere. He leans down to greet the prone, Sami man lying in the grass, wearing his traditional Norwegian ceremony short pants and knee high white stockings that all grooms donned for their weddings, probably to accommodate all the dancing to come at the reception.

_Looking forward to that…_

"No! I didn't see anything! Whoa…Hi….where'd you come from?" At first denying any wandering eye misdeed on his part, then greeting this new stranger hovering over him, Kristoff jumps up, clumsily knocking his head onto a protruding tree branch as he jumps to his none-too-agile clumpy feet, using Sven as an unwilling pulley.

"Just been admiring the medieval architecture of your castle and lush foliage of its pristine grounds."

_Smooth and suave._

Kristoff, for some reason, didn't quite take a shine to this newcomer, who was standing cocksure and confident, good-looking and dashing, with a gallant smirk on his too-handsome face.

_This guy really reminds me of someone…Someone I don't like…_The knobs and buttons in his brain begin clicking and whirring but this morning's trials and the whole wedding ordeal was already too much to tax his less-than-cunning brain a tick further, so he lets it go with a snort.

"Yeah….it's pretty nice out back here in summer. Just been exploring it myself for the first time." Kristoff makes pleasant conversation, gazing out over the rows of Gerda and Kai's red and white rosebeds to the green, green meadows foreshadowed by the steep mountain ranges they were yet capped with snow overlooking them beyond the clear blue sky.

"But, I don't know much about this castle's architecture stuff—cause it isn't mine." Kristoff glances back towards the magnificent multi-spired marble and stone laid palace, complete with lighthouse and church chapel in all its creamy glory.

"Yeah, I didn't take a hard-working entrepreneurial type of fella like you for a palace pet, castle courtesan, royal rabble kind of guy, are you? Now me, I could get used to this kind of place. I could get used to this easy, laid back, no worries, breakfast-in-bed kind of easy life. By the way, the name's 'Flynn'….er….'Eugene.' The little woman wants to call me 'Eugene.' If you're gonna be family, I might as well let you in on my little secret."

Flynn Rider, oops, '_Sorry_', Eugene Fitzherbert, sticks his gloved hand out for Kristoff to shake. The sly operator gives the slow-to-respond Norwegian younger man his most charming smile.

"Kristoff, right? You're wedding's gonna be a doozy, from all the servants bustling around the castle getting that wedding feast underway. Not to mention all those singers and musicmakers prepping in that all-inspiring in-palace church hitting some high notes. We need a choir like that in Corona—whew! A guy could be spoiled for beauty around here with that exuding elegance Snow Queen and that vivacious little sis of a princess you're getting hitched to. Major kudos on landing a cutie like her, Kris."

_Boy, this guy's got a mouth on him! Doesn't he ever stop for breath?!_

Kristoff, akin to his rocky northern family of trolls, pauses and blinks several times while silently listening in his honest simplicity to the stylish in his dark purple tunic Flynn, rattle off an entire wordy paragraph, without coming up for air in true smooth-talker flair.

Kristoff feels rather uncomfortable wearing his handmade woolen Bunda suit with the Lapland designs Anna insisted he put on his topcoat and grey vest next to him.

"It's Kristoff. You must be Anna and Elsa's cousin…from Prussia?" A discomfited Kristoff comments at the 'commercial break.'

"Uh…yeah…no, no, no, no. That's my wife, Rapunzel. She's up there with your gal right now. You might've seen her—gorgeous brunette with the most adorable set of freckles traced above her little upturned nose. You couldn't have missed her. Well, I couldn't have…" Flynn trails off in his descriptive, mumbled ramblings. His eyebrows raise over his lowered eyelids rather amorously over the inward vision of his beautiful love.

"Rapunzel? Did somebody just say Rapunzel? Don't you LOVE that word? I've always loved the sound of that word! And the girl, too! I love Rapunzel! I've always wanted to grow some! The plant, not the girl! In summer! I love summer!" In his disassembled kooky way, Olaf awakens from his ten minute nap. He was a little distracted after staying up all the previous night keeping an over-excited Anna company, with his snow jewels of wisdom from where he was aslumber atop a very peacefully chomping Sven.

"What—is—that—thing?" Flynn Rider's brown eyes bug out upon glimpsing the animated talking and walking snowman as Olaf takes a bounding leap from Sven's grazing back and does a clumsy showing off cartwheel, resulting in a three-part disembodiment of head, lower body and torso, rolling along the green lawn directly at Flynn's freaked out feet.

"Whoa! I should've brought that frying pan out here instead of giving it to you as a wedding present!" Flynn cries out, finding no weapon on his dolled-up self.

_And boy, do I look good today!_

No weapon that is, beyond his shielding bare hands, ready to attack, karate-style.

So he does.

"Hi-yah!"

_Kick!_

Poor Olaf is knocked apart again, just as he was getting it together, flying in all directions of the garden.

"Hey! Chill, Fitz! I know he's weird, but Olaf's a good little guy, and a good friend of Anna and Elsa since they were kids." Kristoff defends the three part snowman as he and Sven chase after rolling Olaf's runaway torso, then plopping the disattached magic snowman back together, sticking both branchy arms in place as if he was accustomed to reassembling this mystic, broken toy.

"Ooookay…..When in Norway, do as the Arendelle magic snowpeople do…Got it…." Sarcastic Flynn Rider considers his own dabbling with magic vis-à-vis his and Rapunzel's adventures as he incredulously adapts to any situation, even one where a kingdom of grown men play with lifelike snow.

_You must've seen that coming…_

"Sorry about that…_Olaf_…Old habit." Flynn covertly pockets an object from the ground as he speaks.

"Where's my nose?! Where's my nose?! My lovely big carrot nose! Did **you**see it, **Sven**?" Olaf, reconstituted, save for his most favored facial feature, glares suspiciously at the big, carrot devouring reindeer. The two had already come to an understanding over the 'root' of their problem, or so he thought.

But before any further bad vibes were spread between a squint-eyed Olaf and behooved innocent Sven, Flynn produces the orange colored veggie from behind his back.

"Slippery hands can't help themselves…." Flynn, with his signature winning grin, plastered across his comely face, shoves the stolen carrot into Olaf's oval rounded head above his open mouth and below his crossed eyes.

"Yay! Let's go!" Olaf happily bounces away, with a forgiven Sven and determined Kristoff right behind him, as they enter the church.

_Once a thief, always a thief…_

Flynn Rider ponders the vast question in more ways than one. He watches from a third person's point of view as Sven and Olaf prod and physically push an utterly dense Kristoff into the rear chapel's door towards his certain fate.

_Hmm…_


	3. Chapter 2 -Can I Say Something Crazy YES

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 2**

"**Can I Say Something Crazy? YES!"**

.

Every corner of this Christian Church of Norway brims with celebratory joy and bright streaming sunlight through window after window of stained glass, whose refractions cast a multi-colored light show display on the altar, the aisles, even the ceiling, to the choir in the apse above—even as the gathering guests in the pews marvel at Arendelle's beautiful depiction of religious value, patriotic country spirit, and sisterly devotion. Queen Elsa spared no expense on this ceremonious affair—all rolled into the most glorious kind of festive occasion the beauteous summer season in Arendelle had to offer.

There were baskets of breathtaking flowers decorating every window, every pew. The chapel altar was bountiful of summer flora, for energetic Gerda and husband Kai, specialized in gardening skills since their youth together. Between the pair of well-wishers, this flowering church setting was flawlessly picturesque.

**_Achoo!_**

Unless you suffered from summer allergies.

"God bless you." There was something special about your sneeze being blessed by the highest Norwegian ecumenical authority, like the respected and aged Archbishop of Trondheim.

"Thank you, Your Majesty…eh, Your Highness….uhhh, I mean….Your Bishopness, Sir." A wide-eyed and awkward Kristoff was a jumbled mess of honorific titles for the elderly church official adorned with the traditional golden, bejeweled hat standing before him.

"Be at peace, my son. The blessing of the Lord be upon you." The older, short sighted clergyman lays on calming hand on the big young man's full of boundless energies crinkled forehead.

"But **_I _**was the one who sneezed! Shouldn't **_I_** be the one to get the holy bishop's blessing?! I think **_I_** need to be blessed by His bishopness!" A miffed, previously unnoticed behind strapping Kristoff's back was Olaf, yet under his private snow flurry, in frilly tie and dark suit jacket, making him look like a black and white penguin. Decked out and all, he was way too honest and a tad envious of the nervous groom getting all the attention as he whispers distinctly audibly from where he stood beside a sympathetic looking Sven who snorts to the rambling off at the mouth Olaf in reply.

Yes, Sven, after many entreaties and pleadings by the bride, and subsequently her queenly sister, finally gave permission, was allowed to not only enter this Holy Shrine for this auspicious occasion, but was also seen fit, as the groom's lifelong best friend and confidant, to stand in as Kristoff's 'best man.'

One couldn't expect Kristoff to tie the knot of this most import step in his life, without his loyal friend at his side. Besides, who would be the voice of Kristoff's conscience if Sven wasn't present?

So big, four-footed Sven the Reindeer, was to attend the wedding as special honorary guest of the Queen, under the express condition that he be thoroughly bathed and cleaned until his antlers sparkled and his fur coat glistened before entering the holy shrine.

Each of his four hooves required leather sleeved bootings so as not to scratch nor mar the age-old stave church's polished wooden flooring.

A reindeer hooved animal was something this Medieval church's post and lintel construction had never envisioned would be sharing in a hallowed Christian sacrament such as marriage beneath its raised roof trusses, support upper walls and huge grunnstokker beams, criss crossing the ceiling the central orchestra choir nave.

Just then, the sudden flaring music emanating from the central knave sector of the chapel causes a skittish Sven to nearly skid his unsteady legs in stockings in unsightly opposing directions. Luckily for him, Kristoff was yet attentive enough to his best buddy's strife to wrap a steadying, strong arm around the teetering reindeer's fuzzy taupe neck.

"I got you, Sven!" Olaf in his naïve fervor has selflessly attached himself to the forest creature's furthermost hind leg in an attempted 'rescue.'

"Olaf, that's not helping. Leave him be, okay?" Kristoff, at first, chuckles at the heroism of the, by any scale, puny excuse for a snow person, as Olaf's two shiny black eyes tightly focus shut as his pair of scrawny stick arms strenuously push back at an already stabilized Sven's muscular rear shank, unintentionally shoving poor out-of-control Sven's shaky limbs towards the front altar's holy and royal regalia of Arendelle on proud yet humble before God, display.

"Whoa, there, big fella! W-whoa!" Kristoff starts to panic when his firm grip on Sven's shoulder falters. The reindeer, too panics, and heaves forward erratically, teetering himself on the close-by steps of impending disaster…

But Sven is fortunately saved again. But this time, though Kristoff alone was not able to hold up the hunking sides of oversized, snow-environed beastie, who was slipping and sliding as if was an ice skating rink across the altar, straight past the patient, half-blind and nearly deaf Bishop, who only notices a brief whoosh of air, that knocks his tower of a hat over his nearly sightless eyes.

Good thing a sharp eyed, handsome rogue does, as quick agile feet transport Flynn—Eugene—in no time flat from his front row pew seat to the climactic scene as he springs into action, all the while the attending audience gasps at the dangerous speed of large reindeer plunging towards their church and country's utmost treasures of the kingdom, arranged carefully along the altar table, about to be crashed into.

Flynn Rider not only manages to dash around the altar steps leading up to steady a tripping Kristoff, grasps the tipping scepter from falling off the table, and also manfully grabs hold of Sven's antlers and maneuvers the reindeer back to his spot where the relieved dizzied animal plunks to the safety of his flank. He also catches the dangling orb of Saint Olaf's from Sven's now stagnant antler before the holy object clatters to the ground as he then helps the kneeling in prayer, slow, methodical, and bewildered bishop to his feet, handing over both noted royal items with his breathlessly signature smirk in place on his face.

"I think these are safer with you, Padre." Flynn says as he turns back, straightening his purple tunic, to take his seat again, though flashing the ogling crowd his most charming grin and gallant bow.

"Wow, Kristoff! Don't you wish you were as fast and nimble and heroic in front of every person in Arendelle as Flynn-er, Eugene?!" Basic Olaf had a simple way of naively stepping in it every time. "And he doesn't even have a fashionable Bunta on."

Kristoff gives the daft snowman a rolled-eye sigh, who got the new guy's name mixed up in a funny sort of way, as he was wont to do, as even the stately bishop is taken in by this shyster's shine.

The grateful audience even applauds for Flynn's heroism who saved their treasures and the cleric's blessing in Flynn's direction.

"Let us each walk by faith and not by sight, on this most blessed of peaceful sacraments—a gift from Above." Though unable to see, the Bishop begins to speak a cherished verse on his lips, as he preaches his prepared sermon and falls to his knees reverently to retrieve his teetered headgear, giving the large golden crucifix affixed upon it, due homage before replacing the piece atop the crown of his aged noggin again, never noticing the chaos ensuing around him.

"Yeah, I'm really impressed by 'Flynn-er, Eugene', Olaf." Kristoff murmurs beneath his breath, the hair on the back of his neck standing up again when he watches that handsome devil wave to the nearly swooning young girls and old ladies in the pews.

_But Anna's cousin married him, so he can't be all bad. Just…he's so familiar somehow…_

However, before Kristoff could entertain another doubt, the music of the church suddenly flares to life and all thoughts disappear, but only of her.

The hymn playing trumpets, violins and harpsichord simultaneously cease—all but the singular voice of a customary lur—a long wooden horn instrument of ancient times—is played, to signal the arrival of the rest of the wedding party, the more eye-catching feminine side.

The rear door cracks open of the chapel, with joy evident on her face, as Gerda peeks her chubby cheeked head through the doors, waving a thumbs-up to the choirmaster that the bride and her maids were ready to make their grand entrance.

Anna had asked her beloved nanny, and close friend, since she and Elsa were but babes, true-hearted Gerda, to be her 'flower girl.' Though well past her girlhood, Gerda had that kind of innocence and joy in her soul that was as timeless as her love of all flora—especially made her the perfect and only choice for Anna to include in her wedding ceremony.

So now, pleasantly plump Gerda dances as if she was a young girl again, merrily down the aisle with a child-like purity as she scatters her own tended floral blooms, in all their fresh vivacity and colors, to the floor, inviting the bride to walk upon their flowery path of light.

But before the bride came the bridesmaids—Princess Rapunzel was touched and elated when her baby cousin wanted her to be a last-minute bridesmaid addition. At first, she didn't wish to intrude on the sister-sister only thing that Anna and Elsa had going on at this wedding but Anna reassured her fellow, impulsively headstrong and optimistic cousin that she would be a real 'stinker' if Rapunzel didn't join in this once in a lifetime festivity.

And after Elsa initiated the trio in a warm group hug, welcoming Rapunzel into their sisterhood truly, the whimsical brunette couldn't be a 'stinker.'

In fact, in all the church attendee's view, Rapunzel was glowing with that familial pride her own blighted youth was starved of—feeling really 'sympatico' with the two girls, as her Eugene would say. She was still a blushingly beautiful bride in his eyes, as the fetchingly lovely Rapunzel marches in the wedding procession forward, flushing a brilliant shade of fuschia pink when her hubby gives her low-cut for the era, off the shoulder rose-colored dress, borrowed from Anna, an appreciative low whistle. Her large green eyes both berate but couldn't help but be bemused by his flagrantly flirtatious attitude in such exalted surroundings, but she was glad to see that look in his eyes again—for there was something about her Flynn not quite the same as of late.

As the next, and only other, bridesmaid now makes her way up the aisle, divine in her filmy alluring lavender dress and royal purple cape adorning her noble entrance, resplendent in her long skirt and high heels, the wedding guests—her nation's loyal subjects—all stand in respect of their beloved Queen.

But Queen Elsa wanted all of today's glory to go to the one who deserved their honor more than she. The girl who single-handedly saved the kingdom and brought the peace back to her soul, as Arendelle's sovereign puts up a pair of long fingered hands and motions for both the citizens and visiting foreign dignitaries, to be at ease with a kind smile.

For this was her dearest friend, her most loyal companion, her darling little sister's moment—to have every last bit of the shine she had to offer on this world—of happiness and joy, and by royal decree of the Queen, sweet, selfless, brave, indomitable Anna would receive every felicitude all her Queenly prowess and magical powers could grant her Anna for a fortuitous lifetime.

_Kristoff is a good man. I believe You brought him to Anna when she needed him most. Thank you, Lord._

The elegantly poised Queen was a strikingly aesthetic beauty, as gracefully polished Elsa confidently strides up the center aisle in dignified procession, every citizen's proud attention was on her as she bestows an unquestioning trusted nod to Kristoff when she passes him in unspoken faith of his care that she would be leaving her beloved sister in. She knew this gruff, yet gentle, well-built yet sensitive man was every bit as lion-hearted and dauntless as Anna deserved in a partner.

_Oh, Anna, you're so lucky to have found such a love…true love…_

Elsa muses with no envy, just pride and unflinching hope for the two young lovers just beginning their journey towards a future together, as she watches with pleased eyes the pure delight and reaction on Kristoff's face as it changes into a gaze both ecstatically thrilled and contentedly satisfied to glimpse his new bride, as Princess Anna steps her first step into the flowery ornate chapel aisle…

In Kristoff's besmitten eyes, there could be no bride more beautiful than his Anna, as she slowly, after taking in the breathtaking summer flora overflowing in the house of worship, begins her bridal walk towards him.

Composer Felix Mendelssohn's recently written Wedding March in C Major showers down its lilting musical strains from the orchestra apse above, beneath the wooden grunnstokker beams, the glorious melody merges with the magnificent harmonies certainly inspired by the One who set such splendid music as this, to the rhythm and cadence as it was first born in Heaven, to play, and now to be softly sung below in harmony to a chorus the Lord himself would be pleased to call his own—just as a pure jewel such as Anna was His pride and joy as well.

Summer rose petals lined the path at her feet, and Anna's crocus inspired rosemaling pattern embroidered dress, that her dear mother once wore down this very same aisle, shimmers like champagne in the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windowpanes.

Bubbly did indeed describe this energetic young lady, brimming over with loveliness and vitality, especially on this, her day of days.

Her golden lace trimmed sleeves had been shirred and tied with artistically placed bows, inlaid on the silk brocade of her shoulders, revealed more than a peek of her pristine fair skin of her 19th century wedding gown of yesteryear.

Upon her golden orangey head of hair, exquisitely bunned and styled with French braiding, done by hairstylist Rapunzel's artsy hand, rested a crown of roses—red and white and golden, too—weaving in and out of one another until they formed a lovely floral wreath nestled in her pretty hair.

The tiny little bells in her wreath veil tinkled in her ears, as Anna smiles sweetly a beaming smile of gratitude for everyone's attendance—to each pew, overfilled with well-wishing spectators that made each one's trip here worthwhile. Rich and poor alike, young and old, were all invited to this happy occasion. The chapel was filled to its capacity and then some with the seatless standing near the windows to catch a glimpse of their adorable 'little princess' on her first day of her new life as a bride.

Then, her gaze travels the quickly shortening bridal walk from friendly faces of servants who were just as equally welcome as the visiting dignitaries, especially dear Kai, who'd always pick her up when she fell down the stairs, and sweet Gerda, baking sugary sweets to fill happy tummies, who had been part of both herself and Elsa's lives since before either could remember.

Next to them was helpful Johanne, Kai's little sister and her mother's faithful lady's maid. Anna saw a vision in the swift mysterious way memories transport us back into that moment again, for just a moment—where a tiny five-year-old Anna was playing with and accidentally tore this very dress—her mother's wedding dress, and the tall and stately lady's maid took time and patience from her busy schedule to both console the weeping child and repair the ripped, treasured gown, with skillful seamstress hands, and an even more skilled smile.

Never would Anna forget those kind, generous people who brought her up to be who she was today—so glad they were here today to witness her dreams of love and family finally come true.

_Not all of you…Mama, Papa…I wish you were here, too…_

Anna swallows hard, eyes filling with tears for her lost, missing parents who, sadly, would not be here to attend her wedding.

_Maybe you are in spirit. After all, Elsa says you're both with God now, and since this is His dwelling place, His house, He's the number one Guest of Honor at my wedding, right? So I'd bet He'd bring you two along! Please, Lord, at least let them see how happy and safe and loved I'm gonna be with Kristoff._

As if in answer to her silent query, a spectacularly brilliant beam of light streams in through the highest window peak—from the highest spire, particularly poignant to Anna for it was always her favorite stained glass window, the one depicting the Nativity scene of Jesus' birth, with Joseph and sheep and shepherds and Wise men looking on, Holy mother Madonna and Blessed Child's golden halo is precisely where the bright sunlight's ray passes, nearly blinding to an emotional Anna as she basks in its glow.

Everyone watches how the wedding's star glimmers and shines, none marveling more than Kristoff. He thanks both God and his lucky stars that this radiant treasure would soon be his to claim as his own—he was absolutely sure he could not love her more, than in this moment of her ethereally smiling face up to the Heavens in silent worship.

Except perhaps for Elsa, the sister, the soulmate, who felt the warmth of Anna's unyielding selfless love, that once melted her frozen heart to be able to love again—for Anna always truly knew the meaning of love.

"Hey, Sven…Anna's crying! Why is she crying?! Isn't marrying Kristoff a happy thing? So why is she crying?" Olaf's simpleton whispered question, never quite understanding the layers of emotion that the human soul entertained is cut off when Pascal, unseen by all, save for the nearly blind Bishop, who offhandedly wonders which other of God's creatures would enter the chapel next, as Pascal scurries under the clergyman's robe on the steps to get in the naïve snowman's line of vision and give him 'the eye.'

An entranced Olaf immediately shuts up. His pea-like brain was confused under the influence of the intelligent chameleon's superior stare. Sven shares a sleepy-eyed nod at the currently purple shaded chameleon.

Kristoff was grateful, for as she approached he could see the emotion in his empathic girl's eyes filled with love, gratitude and joy—the same feelings he himself reflected this very moment when his, hidden beneath a gruff exterior, sensitive and sweet heart could open fully beside the vibrant blossom that was Anna—as the tears in her eyes were now in his.

Elsa, the beauteous maid of honor at her sister's side, smiles proudly at the palpably real, fearless love passing between the bride and groom as the Bishop, donning his white stole, begins the wedding mass, while the orchestra quietly plays a pianissimo melody in the background.

"Kristoff and Anna have come here to Arendelle's Church of Norway chapel in order to be married. We are gathered here to rejoice with you, and hear your voices to each other, and pray for God's blessing for you and your future home together before the Lord's table this day. Grace to you and peace from God, our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."

The Bishop gives his greeting blessing before ambling to his seat behind the altar table. Church bells ring for several moments as Queen Elsa takes her place upon the altar's pulpit to read the liturgy, whilst those dearest to Anna—Kai and Gerda and Johanne—light the customary candles near the altar as bride and groom take their seats, side by side in the front aisle pew.

Anna loved the stabilizing feel of having Kristoff's warm shoulder to lean on, as the two sit back on the pew to listen to Elsa's words.

She was becoming accustomed to speaking publicly but it still was a nerve-wracking task for the quiet, introspective young woman who grew up in fear of being near others and concealing herself.

But her great love for Anna, after their trying ordeal was done—what seemed a lifetime ago, but was just two years today, had developed Elsa's reserved, frightened quiet into an unwavering, strong faith in the higher power of goodness, and warmth, and light—blessed from Above.

The Queen of Arendelle steps up to the church pulpit with all the poise and graciousness befitting the Sovereign Head of the Church of Norway.

"Give thanks to the Lord for He is good; His love endures forever. This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:1, 24." The velvety tinkle of her voice belies her emotional attachment to each heartfelt statement. Elsa in her penitent resolve had not only memorized many verses of the Good Book, but she had taken their truthful meanings deep into her heart.

Her eyes meet Anna's, and even across the space a happy Anna feels embraced by her sister's caring.

"For God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. 1 John 4:16." Elsa lifts her beautiful cerulean blue eyes, the love she had discovered to melt a frozen heart evident for her sister, her friends, her country as she gazes upon each of their faces with the greater hope they could each share in His Love's warmth, even far into the cold months of their nation's bitter winter after this sweet summer has passed.

As the striking beauty who is their Queen fulfills her duty borne of love, her smile is as dignified as it is picturesque and lovely. She leads the congregation in song, her powerfully high strains take the old Sami lyrics of joyful meetings and awakening feelings, set to a lovely Christian hymn's music to a whole new level of wonder.

Kristoff's jaw drops to hear the Queen of Norway speak in a tongue not only foreign to her, but also classed by nearly all to be beneath 'normal' Norwegian citizens, let alone the highest of the country's aristocracy to bend 'low' to the Laplanders.

He turns to Anna, only to hear the lilting giggles as she sings along, a giddy expression on her face at this surprise for her new husband—almost, not yet! Whee!—that her dear sister conspired in making possible.

"Sing, Kristoff, sing! Listen! I learned it good!" Anna proudly adds her joyful, trilling tones to the verse, messing up a dropped vowel or two along the way, but the blonde, orphaned Lapp boy from the Sami north, was impressed and touched, feeling every urge to kiss her pink, rosy lips, as he reaches out a bold hand to stroke a rose petal from Anna's forehead.

"Mmhm-mhmm-mhmmgh…." There was Pascal, playing conscience's advocate again, sitting on Kristoff's shoulder, reminding him of his immediate time and place.

"Oh, right, right…hands off, still." Kristoff chuckles, going back to listening intently to the specially planned hymn, then adds his mellow voice to the refrain, causing Anna to giggle with glee, making it worth every off-key note, as the tinkling, small spoonlike bangles in her hair produce soothing music to ward off evil spirits with each head movement as she laughs.

_Golly, I love your laugh._

Kristoff thinks to himself, losing all embarrassment in being all knock-kneed in his tights—er, stockings—and shorts, as open Anna, in her singing zeal whacks him across the face with some of her rose flowers from her head wreath. Poor Kristoff ends up with a mouthful of flora as the song finishes and the sleepy Bishop stands to the pulpit to pray and give his homily's moral lessons.

"God has created us to live in harmony with Him and with each other.  
>He has ordained that man and woman shall be one, and He has confirmed this fellowship by His blessing. Marriage is God's generous gift.<br>To live together as man and woman is to live in trust and love, to share joy and sorrow  
>and to faithfully stand by each other until life ends."<p>

"God's Word testifies that marriage is holy and inviolable."

"It is written in the Book of Genesis:  
>So God created man in His own image,<br>in the image of God He created him;  
>male and female He created them.<br>God blessed them and said to them,  
>"Be fruitful and increase in number;<br>fill the earth and subdue it." Genesis 1:27-28"

"And our Lord Jesus Christ says:  
>"Haven't you read that at the beginning the Creator<br>'made them male and female', and said,  
>'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother<br>and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh'?  
>So they are no longer two, but one.<br>Therefore what God has joined together,  
>let man not separate." Matthew 19:4-6."<p>

"This is the Word of the Lord." The archbishop finally raises his eyes from the Scripture readings to meet the wedding couple's, assessing them with a kindly smile and sign of the cross blessing.

During each of the bishop's words in his sermon, Kristoff, who was listening intently to the helpful holy man to give some wedded bliss tips, God's love expert so to speak, only began to feel embarrassment creeping up his thick neck again instead. His unmanly fair complexion starts crawling pinks and reds at the forbidden thoughts that phrases like 'being fruitful' and 'becoming one flesh' brought to the surface of the strapping young lad's mind as he sheepishly squeezes his bare knees together as the bishop expounds upon the responsibilities and duties that came along with marriage in his long sermon.

Kristoff, though wearing his official "Royal Ice Master and Deliverer" medallion about his neck, felt a tiny bit insignificant and small again amidst the vastness of Arendelle's kingdom and assembly of noble ambassadors and royalty. He still felt like that lost little boy in the icy wilderness all alone save for Sven in the world until he chased one tiny girl's trail that eventually led him to his new family of wonderful friendly trolls who took him in and made him feel – loved.

Just like Anna does every time her bright eyes light up at him, like she was doing as she sits beside him right now.

That part of the ceremony complete, glorious music from the well-tuned orchestra begins to play uplifting hymns of praise that waft down from the wooden rafters of the choir knave—way up there, and Anna's large eyes never fail him as the Eucharistic prayer is soon followed by Holy Communion.

Each visitor and parishioner of good Christian standing take part in the sacrament, but all goes by Anna in a daze as she watches Elsa, and Rapunzel and Eugene and Kai and Gerda and Johanne revolve around in a dazzling blur for her as she excitedly feels each moment ticking by in her senses.

She stands somewhat third person from the grandness of it all as sounds and sights and scents and touches start to overwhelm her as she awaits the moment that Kristoff and she recite their marriage vows and make their pledge to each other forever thereafter in the sight of Almighty God.

The slightly blind, somewhat lethargic elderly bishop takes his own sweet time returning to the center aisle's front step as far as enthusiastic Anna was concerned.

"Come to the altar of the Lord so that we may hear your vows to each other and pray for God's blessing on you and your home together."

As the members of the bridal party rustle from their seats to take their places for the ceremony, Anna is off and running. She yanks Kristoff's shocked hand and drags him along with her unceremoniously trotting lithe young body, as the couple clumsily dash before a screeching halt before the altar rail.

"Whoa—feistypants!" Kristoff bites his tongue after realizing his little naughty, bantering term for the lively gal had slipped rather loudly and audibly out. The astounded dignitaries look to the leadership of Queen Elsa for their reaction.

But Elsa merely stifles an amused laugh as she elegantly flows in her regal royal cape and lavender draped dress to honorably stand as maid-of-honor at her sister's side. So all crudeness was forgiven instantly.

"Ha ha! 'Feistypants!' Good one. Heh heh…ahem…sorry. There's your reindeer. Here's your frog." Crass Flynn himself gets some stares as he helpfully delivers big, unsurefooted and abandoned Sven safely to his elected spot as 'best friend' versus 'best man' beside Kristoff. The sly dark brown haired, stubbly chinned man deposits the 'frog' onto his own wife's shoulder as she stands behind Elsa for the recessional as Anna's bridesmaids. Rapunzel rolls her eyes at men in general at the rude display unbefitting a church wedding.

"Are we all assembled _now_?" The bishop glances around at the unique, if not strange, wedding party gathered at the holy altar rail.

"Is that a reptile on that bridesmaid's shoulder?" Had he missed the big lumbering reindeer on the opposite side or did his logical mind refuse to see Sven at all?

"Yes! We're all here now." Anna sings out, a bit disturbingly for the elderly man of the cloth, who was calmed by his cultured Queen's more polished assent.

"Yes, please proceed." Elsa replies.

The bishop clears his throat.

"In the presence of God, our Creator and before these witnesses, I ask you, Kristoff Bjorgman, take Anna of Arendelle, who stands before you, as your wife?"

Kristoff takes a deep breath before thoughtfully answering with a decided assuredness, as he looks into Anna's big blue-green eyes full of sparkling hope. "I will."

"Likewise, I ask you, Anna of Arendelle, will you take Kristoff Bjorgman, who stands beside you, as your husband—"

"I will!" Anna squeals out in full blown ecstasy of the moment, her hand thrown up high in the air, as if she was raising it to answer a teacher a question. "I mean, I will." She ashamedly recants her shocking enthusiasm with a more decorous response in a reserved, serious tone.

"Good." The bishop almost crossly retorts at the childishness unbecoming to a…beautiful young bride. He softens upon getting caught up in the enticed entrancement of her bright eyes. "Then please join your hands as a sign of this."

The bride and groom bashfully face one another as they take each other's right hand. Kristoff marvels at how small Anna's petite princess hand and small digits disappear beneath his rather large fingered burly mountain man's appendage.

Anna, similarly, wonders how big and strong and powerful her manly man's hand looked and felt like entwined atop of hers. She sure knew how great it felt to be enclosed in his palm but she never stopped to think what it looked like before.

_Wow…_

The two lovebirds catch one another's curious gazes upon their interlaced digits and simultaneously chuckle at the silliness of it all—the crazy, undeniably, wacky silliness of two unlikely partners finding true love in the other.

_This is true love…_Anna mouths to Kristoff, both knowing the other was also recalling that first wild ride they took together before his old new sled's destructive demise, when the question of true love was brought up and her one meeting engagement to a tall, dark, handsome, did I mention, wicked? man she had defended then, and begged for her idiocy now, cropping back up in their minds in quick flashes of everything that had brought them up to here, in between.

_You and me…_ Mouthing back in response, Kristoff points with his big left forefinger to Anna, then back to himself with a certain smile.

His bride-to-be rewards him with a little thumbs up back, along with a pair of adoring eyes.

"Ahem…" The rattled bishop was at his wit's end, never having to preside over such an unorthodox ceremony before.

_Lizards, reindeer…Lord help us all._

"Kristoff, pay attention!" Ditzy Anna, as per usual, blames her intended, though she started it. Sven snorts a chuckle at his buddy's beratement before all the world.

"Did I miss something?" Out of the side of his mouth, a clueless Olaf asks Flynn—er Eugene in the front row pew, directly behind him.

"Not. , snow buddy." Flynn whispers back, trying to catch his looking gorgeous in rosy pink wife's eye, but something was amiss in their relationship and she doesn't even notice him.

_You always had special peripheral vision for me before, Blondie. But it's my fault we're like this…I know…It's always my fault..._

* * *

><p>Appeased that the uproarious couple was settling down, the Bishop lays his hands atop the joined hands of bride and groom.<p>

"In the presence of God and before these witnesses you have promised each other that you will live together in matrimony, and have joined your hands as a sign of this. Give each other the rings, which you shall wear as a signs of your vows to each other."

The bishop pauses here as they each withdraw their hands. Anna turns to Elsa, squeezing in delirious joy both of her big sister's elegant palms as Elsa slips her the specially made, extra large, male-sized gold ring, engraved with Kristoff and Anna's names entwined into her younger sibling's palm, with an emotionally joyful smile on her trembling purplish lips for her Anna's shining moment.

Kristoff similarly turns to his 'best man', neither Sven nor Kristoff trusting airheaded Olaf enough to entrust him with Anna's matching gold wedding band, so Sven, handless though he was, placed the invaluable piece of engraved jewelry into the safest spot he could find on him—or rather, in him. Anna's wedding ring, for most of the ceremony, resided in the cheek of Sven's cud-chewing muzzle, to be exact.

Thin-skinned members of the wedding audience may have been appalled as the loyal, faithful reindeer, who had been Kristoff's childhood friend for as far back as he could remember, opens his big reindeer mouth and produces on his wet tongue, the ring—all warm and gooey, yet unharmed and safe.

Kristoff, raised as a rugged ice harvester, living off the harsh tundra covered lands, with nothing but his trusty reindeer to rely on, saw absolutely nothing wrong with Sven's approach.

And neither did Anna. She loved and appreciated the big, hairy, cuddly and huggable reindeer partner of her guy like a dear friend. And if Sven and Kristoff could share a slobbered on carrot, why not let thereabouts be a nifty hideout for her wedding ring?

She really couldn't think of anything more fitting or sweet, even as Kristoff swiftly polishes and rubs the gooey saliva filled golden metal band on his silk shirt to dry it a bit before triumphantly producing it to the bishop.

"Ready!" Both Anna and Kristoff cry out simultaneously. "Jinx!" As they hold the rings practically under the bishop's nose.

"Yes, indeed." The bishop was so past annoyance at this point, he was starting to think this whole situation was God's little joke on him—a test to see if he had a sliver of a funny bone left in his entire ecclesiastic devoted body. And now that he thought about it, humor was the Lord's gift to overcome the sorrows of this world.

"Yes, my children, yes, I believe we are ready. Repeat after me, please." He looks to Kristoff. "'Anna, I give you this ring.'"

"Anna, I give you this ring." Kristoff, no longer nervous, tense or even ashamed. (The whole short pants, thigh high stocking thing working for him now, because it was so hot in the stuffy chapel, during this long ceremony in the spotlight.) He grasps Anna's left hand as tenderly as his big fingered hands could allow.

"'As a symbol of my vows of love and faithfulness.'" The Bishop gently prods.

"As a symbol of my vows of love and faithfulness." Kristoff meets Anna's loving eyes as he softly slides the golden band, a circle of their eternal love for one another, onto her elated ring finger. Anna wriggles it with girlish joy as she recites her memorized vows.

"Kristoff, I give you this ring." Anna quickly jumps right in, without any prodding. The now affectionately bemused bishop lets her have a go at it herself, for Anna enjoyed blazing her own path forward.

"As a symbol of my vows of love and…" she stumbles in the memorization end of her lines, perhaps because she was having such a difficult time putting the ring on Kristoff's well-flexed fingers, so tense they had expanded, until she gives the golden band, symbolizing their love a tremendous shove in place.

"Owww…" Kristoff manfully holds back a howl as the pert girl nearly draws blood from his hand's webbing with her force.

_I think I'll have to take care on our honeymoon…_

That word still brought a slight reddening to Kristoff's cheeks as he gazes upon his new wife, Anna peeking back up at him.

"Let us pray." The Bishop takes his cue from the considerate Queen, prepared to let Anna and Kristoff begin their new lives together in a timely fashion. She knew they had traveling plans that would need the sunlit hours of the afternoon to travel by. The bishop directs Anna and Kristoff to kneel at the wedding altar.

"Merciful God, we give You thanks for Kristoff and Anna and for their love for each other. Bless their life as husband and wife.

Help them keep the vows they have made to each other, so that their marriage may be filled with trust, care and joy."

Anna gazes up to her beloved sister with a big, happy sigh, believing she looked so much more 'beautifuller' with each passing day.

_Oh, Elsa, I am so happy!_ Her eyes say wordlessly, and Elsa nods her agreement with their wisdom.

"Grant them the ability and will to build their home in peace, so that it will be a place where children may grow up in safety and family and friends may find fellowship."

Now it was Anna's turn to have her eyes bug out at the thought of having kids of her own already. She still felt like a kid in love herself—to even entertain such a weighty subject herself.

"You are the Way, the Truth and the Life; let them walk in Your Truth. You forgive and heal; help Kristoff and Anna forgive each other. You are the source of love; help them and all husbands and wives grow and mature in love. The Lord bless and keep you. May He make His face to shine upon you and give you peace. Amen."

The wedding audience begins the tradition of lighting candles, whilst the choir sings the final rousing version of the Norwegian classic "Come to the Wedding" orchestrally overlaid with 'Fairest Lord Jesus' as the bishop, now kindly smiling, leads the entire chapel in the Lord's Prayer and the freshly married couple stand from their humble kneeling before the Lord's altar and begin the recessional down the center aisle to leave through the chapel door.

With pride and joy intertwined, with a touch of lonely sadness with the reality that her Anna was moving beyond the close sisterhood the two had been enjoying these past two unburdened years, Elsa watches her baby sister gleefully trip down the aisle (actually, literally tripping) on her long trained golden cape, hanging from their mother's champagne colored wedding gown, as she giddily spins back and forth, twirling as they enter the palace floors.

Luckily for the clumsy girl, Kristoff was there to catch her. Anna smiles as she rests her spinning head against the nook of her big, strong husband's arm, where she dizzily catapulted against in her rush to race them both into the Great Hall.

"That was like, a crazy trust exercise!" Anna nostalgically repeats a memory up at him.

"Did I pass this time?" Kristoff, a real softie beneath that tough exterior, was feeling his oats as he peers down into her dreamy eyes up at him.

"With flying colors…!" Anna whispers wistfully as she snuggles her face into his armpit further, too overwhelmed by everything today meant to pass out at his overtly, as the troll family claimed, foul smell.

But after all, you couldn't blame the guy because that just meant that Kristoff's potent hormones were working overtime.

_Something to look forward to tonight, Anna…_She blushed to herself.

"Sooo…are we gonna skip the reception and get you two a room? Cause I was really looking forward to that kransekake cake your Heaven's angel of a cook has whipped up for you two lovebirds."

"Eugene!" Rapunzel breaks her silent treatment to yell at her crudely insinuating husband.

Eugene gives his brunette wife an amused grin as he suavely continues to charm his way out of trouble, wrapping a flirtatious arm around Gerda, who, in her proud plumpness, had been taken in by the devilish man as she's been talking and bubbling over bragging rights to the finest kransekake cake she's made in ages, about to be served for her 'little Anna.'

"Well," Gerda giggles at the polished young gentleman's attentions, "my frystekake did win the best pastry in show category at the Autumnal Festival last year." Sweet Gerda was still innocent enough to take a consummate con at his wheedling word, though Kai was a bit less naïve as he protectively shoves a hurriedly prepared tray under the charismatic rogue's very nose.

"Nah, I don't—" Flynn was about to decline the plate of Scandinavian tasty comestibles, but decides on another tack. "That is—how can I decline? When such lovely skillful hands turn themselves to delight my palate?" He smoothly cajoles the Arendelle castle housekeeper, who was dangling and cooing on his every word as he kisses and caresses the pudgy woman's offered appendage, flagrantly and slowly chewing on one delectable morsel that she had created with her hands alone.

"Maybe, because it was these here 'lovely hands' that skillfully spooned that canned liver pate on some crackers, sir." Kai's younger sister, Johanne, puts her two licks in. She, in her tease, thwarts Flynn's subtle endearment of the soft-hearted head of the Arendelle royal household.

Johanne extends her thin, bony hand out to the rebuffed man. Flynn was forced to comply as the more authoritative Johanne uses her tall, intimidating appearance to subdue the roguish charmer away from her brother's mate.

"Oh, Johanne! You're not supposed to reveal to all the guests **_all_**of Arendelle's little secrets!" Pleasantly, Queen Elsa steps in here with a cultivated humorous statement to her longtime ladies' maid who was just helping out in the kitchen for today, as Anna and Kristoff had spirited away towards the now open and lively ballroom on the castle's second story.

The newlywed couple lead the dancing party, and Elsa's own feet begin to tap in her stylish high heels, to the rousing tune, echoing from overhead, as she watches with a smile, then laughter, at her vivacious sister, filling the ballroom with her light.

"Ah, what would a wedding be without a proper dance-off?" Flynn, too, conversationally remarks as the guests, including his un-ecsorted wife, all migrate upstairs towards the cheery sounds of happy laughter, fused with music and blithe accompaniment.

As Flynn's heavy lidded eyes scan the Great Hall, as if looking for something, Elsa silently considers the tall and dashing man at her side, who, after Gerda and Johanne are reluctantly called to duty to attend the ballroom by a wary Kai, seems to be her only singular companion left in the throne room.

_There is something about your eyes…_ She thinks to herself in study of him.

"Do you dance in celebration of weddings in Corona, too, Eugene?" Elsa, though still reserved and shy when speaking to others—to strangers—her immense sense of family gave her reason to try. After all, he was her closest cousin's chosen life partner so she must make an attempt to be sociable with him. Although, she still found, that even though she adored her late father, who cared so deeply for her welfare as he trained her up to be the nation's next leader, and faithful Kai was practically a member of the family, men, as a whole, were more difficult to converse with for the young woman, just coming out of her traumatized shell.

Perhaps her recent reticence concerning men stemmed from her most terrifying memories of standing, cold and tossed and battered, and being told that her beloved Anna was dead—by her own hand.

By of the duplicitous _man_ who deceitfully blamed her for it.

She still had haunting nightmares of that incident. Elsa still acutely felt the guilt, the pain—the frozen ice grip her heart with the shadow of that power hungry, sneering man seared into her mind. Her accuser, looming over her, pushes her down, striking at her helplessness—but strangely, there would be other nights, when that same villain, whose antagonistic evil sneer was transformed more into the benevolent gaze of a protagonist—a shining hero with an encouraging smile, who was reaching for her to help him now, across the icy cold waters as he was floating adrift on the waves of a cracked, frozen iceberg, alone and vulnerable.

And desperately needing her to rescue him from sinking underneath the crashing waves of the icy depths, to be lost forever.

His handsome face was never clearer, nor more distinct than right now. At last, she recognized whose eyes were pleading to her across the ice drifts, not just for help, but something far more mysterious…

* * *

><p>"—personally, dancing has never really been my thing, but Blondie—eh, I still call her 'Blondie'—don't ask any questions, suffice it to say it's a long, long story—she must've been born tapping her cute feet. I tell ya, that girl can dance. Hey…you okay, Queenie?" Flynn wasn't aware until this very moment that Elsa had only heard less than a third of his rambling speech. Not until he tore his eyes from discreetly peering into the ballroom they were moving towards at a certain brunette twirling and swirling her magical rhythm from stem to stern of the party room, to gaze seriously at the spaced out, preoccupied woman beside him.<p>

"Prince Hans…" Elsa breathes the revelation to herself quietly, as if saying the name aloud would dissolve both nightmare and dream, as her mind whirs torridly, trying to discover why she was both taunted and haunted by this despicable man of all monsters.

But even now, she knew she couldn't break away from being entranced by the pools of his eyes reflecting back at her.

"The name's 'Eugene' and I'm no Prince. But you can call me anything you like, Beautiful." Disrespectful Flynn with a charming roguish smirked wink, goodnaturedly mocks and dismisses her odd behavior for a female's natural tendency to be fanciful.

_That's why we men love them—either that or the shape of their legs…_

_Now if the gang saw you at the Snuggly Duckling…whoo hoo! A platinum blonde with some rather un-Victorian fashion ideas…You would drive the men there wild—_

"Shall we dance, Eugene?" Interrupting his impudent thoughts, Elsa abruptly asks and the timid, even voice tones that she normally spoke in were dashed in a second of spontaneous, rebellious defiance.

"No, no, no, no…no. I don't dance." Though narcissistic enough to believe himself irresistible to the entire female race, he is flabbergasted as he is violently yanked from a folded resisting arm to a waltzing position with Elsa herself as his partner.

"You do now, by order of the Queen."

Flynn swallows hard as her glowing, icy fingertips threaten as they alight upon his chest. She seemed to enjoy being a bit naughty—and not always strictly adhering to the 'upstanding, good girl she had to be' with harsh rules and austere regulations restricting her entire existence. She was ready to toss that aside, for there was something about this man that enticed her to be a normal young woman, not merely the elegant untouchable figurehead, frozen in regal ice.

_Like Anna can be herself…I want to be free to be me._

"Let's go melt the ice."

Was it the fact that this 'Eugene/Flynn Rider' boasted many of the features of the man in her dreams? Tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome, with charm oozing from his every pore—yet still retaining a tender air of vulnerability and inner well-disguised sadness?

Elsa didn't understand it all—this conundrum unraveling in her haunted mind quite yet. But for today, she'd let it go. None mattered, save for taking part in fully celebrating alongside her best friend, her true conscience, her darling sister on this happiest day of Anna's life—the day of her marriage to the man she had found real, true, genuine love with.

"I can let the dream go, today. Until the night, when the dream comes again…"

As soon as she steps into the ballroom, everyone takes pleasant notice of their Queen, and Elsa surprises her loyal subjects and visiting dignitaries—not to mention a delighted Anna, and Kristoff, with exhausted from dancing puppies, by her unexpectedly skilled dancing skills, as she exquisitely waltzes a compliant Flynn around the dance floor, with the full intention of reuniting him with the forgiving wife he loved so terribly his heart was breaking.

Their eyes speaking words that voices never could utter, Flynn finds himself once more in Rapunzel's welcoming arms, wishing he'd never had to let go in the first place. She leads, being more of a dancer, as they spin around in a ballroom that now had more than enough love to go around, as he buries his head in her no longer magical hair, yet the act of nuzzling a slow dance was still healing in her loving warmth.

Elsa, growing in her own emotions, had empathically sensed that, too. She never claimed to know the inner workings of the human heart fully herself, but when she could, she did try to help love's course run smoothly, as she allows sweet Olaf to replace Flynn as her 'able snow bodied' dance partner, the pair practically skating alongside as energized Anna nearly dances a contented Kristoff off his pear-shaped square feet in their happy wedding dance jollies.


	4. Chapter 3 - Jeg Elsker Deg

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 3**

"**Jeg Elsker Deg!"**

The rest of the afternoon for Elsa was spent in frivolity and fun—dancing, singing, sharing in Anna's boundless laughter and joy of living. Elsa and Anna had lived all those long, empty years in the span of time that most sisters spent in twenty or thirty years, but they squeezed together all the love and friendship and closeness in the past two.

As the uproarious dancing, partying and feasting on a 'roast and ice cream', not to forget Gerda and Johanne's rivalrous presented award-winning treats and culinary delights, the party was near to its happy end.

But there was one more Scandinavian wedding tradition as yet left undone.

"Miss Anna!" Gerda comes trotting up to her precious, littlest girl, now all grown up. "Oh, pardon me! _**Mrs.**_ Anna!" The rosy cheeked palace housekeeper corrects herself of the new honorific she'd have to learn to attach to the young girl from now on.

"Yup, that's me! Mrs. Anna Bjor…Bjorg…" Though a married woman now, Anna was still dizzy enough to flub her own new last name. Her face was quite vexed as she stutters on her new husband's surname.

"—Bjorgman." Kristoff lifts his eyes to the Heavens as he supplies his new wife (Wow…) with the rascally, tough on the tongue word.

"Bjorgman! Yes, that's it! Of course, I knew it!" Anna coyly gives her audience an all-knowing smirk, while Kristoff can only chuckle at her cuteness.

"I am now Mrs. Anna Bjorgman. Doesn't the sound of that fit together perfectly, like—like—"

Again she struggles for a proper term.

"This is the kransekake wreath cake that Gerda and I have been perfecting for hours." Johanna just arrives, carefully pushing a serving cart tray, stacked to reach about the imposing height of Elsa's ladies' maid, Johanne, with ring after ring of Angel's Food cake 'glued' together with white icing, to keep the almond embedded sugary confections attached to one another.

"A wreath cake? How artistic you two are!" Impressed artist Rapunzel throws an arm around each of the conversely short and fat, skinny and tall, servants who had obviously both worked hard on the wedding cake, for all its prettily decorated ornamentation of Arendelle's symbolic purple and blue crocus flowers emblem.

"I **LOOOVE **kransekake wreath cakes!" Olaf comes puttering across the ballroom floor to get a closer look at the towering baked good.

"Have you ever had it before?" Flynn asks the snowperson drolly, with a raised, suspicious eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"No. But I'm sure I'll love it! Look how yummy and tasty those pretty little sugar flowers are…OUCH—!" The sweet toothed Olaf, well, his one and only tooth was certainly a 'sweet one', yells out as his wooden 'knuckles' are firmly rapped away from purloining a saccharin blue crocus treat by the usually kind Gerda's golden plated serving spatula.

"Ooooh, I'm sorry, Olaf!" She immediately apologizes, kindly rubbing the snowman's branches that served as his hands.

"Wait, not too much friction, please!"

"But this special cake can only be first touched after it's been presented at the wedding reception to the bride and groom!"

On her knees, Gerda explains to not only the snow muffin at ground level but to all the remaining guests within earshot.

"Okay." Olaf nods in understanding. "Why?"

Or not.

"Well, tradition has it that when the bride and bridegroom lift the top layer of the kransekake cake together, the number of rings that continue to stick to the top layer is said to be the number of children they will have."

"—W-ha—what?!" Kristoff nearly spits out his drink of Akvavit wine, the explanatory Kai had just poured for him from the bottle placed decoratively in the center of the twelve layered rings.

"Now that's just freaky." Flynn speaks too quickly sometimes for his own good. Rapunzel and many other court ladies give him some rather terse looks for ridiculing their ancient Norwegian marriage tradition.

"…If you don't like kids, which, I, for one, do. I _**love**_ kids…" He squirms his way out of the awkward moment.

Elsa marvels with a headshaking giggle beneath her hands at how masterfully this man could spin any situation.

"That's good to hear."

Elsa was also standing close enough to Rapunzel to catch her mumbled beneath her breath response that no one else did. The Queen's intelligent mind swiftly put together all the angst and uncomfortable unease between the visiting couple, who obviously loved one another, together in a flash.

_I see now._

But she didn't. Not really. Elsa, in her calm, resigned way, recognized that a normal life of home and family was not destined to be hers.

Being the sovereign Queen of this nation, with all of its welfare, strife and daily concerns must be kept at the forefront of her duty at all times. There would be no consideration of any other sort of life for her.

_All for Arendelle. I'll live in eternal gratitude to serve my God and my country and that's all I'll ever want or need. For my people, I will stay vigilant and pure of heart. _

Elsa's once cold, frozen heart now beat the steady drumroll of piety, justice, wisdom and simplicity—taught to her by her loving father, the King, about the noble and right, very first crowned King of Norway. She would walk in St. Olaf's steps and never allow that precious privilege to serve her people be corrupted by a usurping other presence on the Arendelle throne.

"It's sticking! It's sticking! Count, count, count them! Hurry before they fall, Kai! You're brilliant at numbers! You count!" Anna's shrill voice screams excited orders and brings Elsa out of yet another daydream.

The young Queen gazes out over the scene with so many mixed emotions, for though Gerda and Johanne's multi-ringed cake, was full of nuts, dates and decoration—it couldn't compare to the variety she takes in of all the joyful sights and sounds around her.

There was, as was the tradition of kransekake demanded, only the newly wedded couple's hand on the tall cake's uppermost layer as they lift it straight upwards together, to gauge their fertility prospects.

Of course, it would help if Anna were a few inches more endowed, to reach a hand able to touch—never mind, lift—the dozen storied ring cake.

"I told you, Gerda! Twelve was too much!" Johanne reprimands her fellow chef.

But even that was no longer a problem, as, after assessing the size of it all in a few short seconds, strong, burly, experienced mountain climber Kristoff, picks up his sturdy as a little–Norwegian-fjord-horse-girl under her armpits with one arm, until she was nearly lifted right off the ground from her tippytoes as she stretches up, UP! to simultaneously lift that highest top ring of the prophesizing kransekake that Kristoff also holds up with his other free hand.

"One, two, three, four…oh my! Five! And—" Kai's voice cracks about the unbelievable large unbroken count, just as the ridiculously awesome sixth ring also cracks in half and begins to wobble from the lifted mass of other rings.

"Awww…!" The interested onlookers sigh at the prediction.

"All right! Five and half! Does that mean your last kid's gonna be a midget?" Flynn comments snidely as Rapunzel harshly elbows him in the deserving gut, from where she was taking a dancing break atop a kneeling down Sven.

"So I guess we're rounding it up to six?" Flynn squeaks out, massaging his aching gut. "Six is a good number."

"Six…?" Kristoff gulps at the impending prediction, rather frightening high number for a new husband to marry, not even yet on his honeymoon night. He gently puts a thrilled Anna back down to the floor safely.

"Six? SIX! That's all my fingers can count up to! Oh, no, wait, I have eight. Forgot my thumbs…You'd better start making those babies soon if you're gonna have that many." Olaf naively holds up all of his finger branches, not quite understanding the whole 'making babies' process.

As Anna blissfully sighs, six stars of new hope popped up in her wistful, dreamy eyes, they twinkle to meet Elsa's before returning to share a sheepish grin with Kristoff. The entire audience of wedding guests and well-wishers burst out in frolicking laughter, smiles and applause.

* * *

><p>"Now be sure to wear your rubber soled galosh boots and those extra pair of thick stockings I packed in your trunk, Miss Anna, for when you arrive in that Valley of Living Rock place." Johanna repeats for the hundredth time, since she, along with Cousin Rapunzel and Elsa's assistance finally finish packing Anna's luggage for her honeymoon vacation in the North.<p>

"I will! I will! I promise!" Accepting the farewell kiss to her cheek, Anna holds back the urge to tell her authoritative older friend the truth about the so-named 'rocks' there were not really describing the landscape's terrain, as in treacherously rocky and rough, but rather something more mystical in nature.

"I don't know why you couldn't have stayed for your honeymoon here at the palace. Or at least in one of the cabin holdings on the palace grounds…" Johanne murmurs, obviously never married herself.

"Kristoff's family lives up there and they wanted Anna and Kristoff to take part in another marriage ceremony of their own culture." Elsa fills in considerately for Anna. Her little sis had already explained to her how the kindly trolls she'd met in her youth had a troll-style wedding already in the works planned for their beloved adopted son.

"Wait. Two weddings? Isn't _**one**_ enough trouble for a self-respecting guy to go through." Flynn regains his humor, _not_ kindly averting his eyes, as he aids his helpful wife in her attempts to get a sticking lock suitcase opened again to add a forgotten set of feminine underthings that Anna had mislaid and Elsa had fortunately reminded her of at the last minute.

Rapunzel slaps her naughty hubby's wrist, as she quickly shoves in the blue and green lacy lingerie and nightgown pieces into the case far away from his wandering male sight.

"—Ahem…I prefer a woman in rose, myself."

"Yeah, well, you haven't met my family." Kristoff fondly smirks at the vision in memory of his noisy, crude, loud, often inappropriate, yet really family-oriented and loving, clan who had raised the orphan boy and Sven since they were mere pups.

"It's a shame they couldn't make it for the wedding here. They would've been more than welcome in my kingdom." Queen Elsa offers graciously, lamenting not being able to become reacquainted with the helpful and wise troll king—who had saved her precious Anna from her foolish accident when they were children.

Elsa was eager to show him now that she understood and grasped his kind warnings about her own fear being her worst enemy, now that she was the master of it.

"I gave them your invitation, Elsa, but Pabbie figured that if one or two of them came to the wedding, they'd _**ALL **_want to come. And you don't want to know how heavy that'd be." Kristoff blows air to whistle between his lips.

Elsa nods in understanding as Flynn slaps on the back the now changed into his riding gear—and long pants—getup as he returns from loading up and hitching Sven to his still spic and span, well-cared for, freshly waxed, Official Ice Master and Deliverer's sled that he was still so proud of.

"That's families for ya!" Flynn answers as if little orphan boy Eugene Fitzherbert knew a lick about what it was like to grow up in caring family surroundings.

Kristoff leaves off the fact that Flynn probably misunderstood his meaning of 'heavy' by overbearing, meddlesome and intrusive, rather than literally 'heavy' in the true meaning of the word—enough to crack and break the polished marble tiles and decorated floors of the castle's front hall.

"Well, when you two do get there, tell your Grandpabbie, and Bulda and Cliff—and the whole clan—that they are welcome here at any time." Elsa had heard so much from Anna of the troll's familial love that she felt she knew them already.

"Just give us a warning and I'll have the town's builders and masons reinforce the castle foundation pilings." Elsa astounds all gathered, now dumbstruck by her construction and building knowledge.

All except Kai, who looks proudly on as he stands, holding the doors open for Kristoff and a usually lazybones Flynn, to carry Anna's bags to Sven's waiting sled. For Kai had been teaching his young monarch in the years of time they had alone, the nuts and bolts type of things concerning the castle's maintenance that her dear father and friend Kai enjoyed tending to as a hobby—as males of like age found camaraderie with each other in doing.

At the thought of her father, whom she had loved and lost along with her sweet mother, all too soon, Elsa's pleasant smile grows a tad melancholy. But the thoughtful young woman swiftly recovers, to give Anna, who had just finished hugging Rapunzel and Flynn and Kai and Johanne a happy goodbye.

But Anna, close as she and Elsa had become in the past two years again, after their years of separation, caught that tiny little change of inflection in Elsa's demeanor.

"Are you gonna be all right on your own, Elsa?" Anna's big eyes were widened in concern, for she had always been a tender, sweet and compassionate girl. She intuitively felt the sudden emptiness of being the first one of the Arendelle sisters to leave the proverbial 'nest' for more than a day or two.

The castle had been both home and fortress for as long as the two sheltered girls had remembered, and she knew when Elsa was disturbed in her heart, now that Anna knew how to listen.

"Hey, I'm the big sister here. Don't worry, all right? I've got this." Elsa smiles reassuringly as she was the one to reach out for Anna. The cold fear of ever touching another human being had long melted away.

"I _**soooooo**_ love you!" Anna practically wails out, throwing both her arms so tighty around Elsa that the tall, thin girl believed she might actually snap in half.

_But I'm not made of ice anymore._

Elsa simply hugs her little sister back, just as fervently.

"Awwww, they're so cute! I wish I had a sister!" Tender hearted Rapunzel coos to a rolling eyes, jaded Flynn.

"Hey! No fair! Why do the hugs always come out when I'm busy somewhere else?!" If anyone wondered where Olaf had gotten to, it being way too quiet around this castle front entrance to see Anna and Kristoff off, he was down in the palace kitchen and larder helping Gerda prepare the large basket of warm beverages and cold meat meals, goodies and sweet treats that would stay good, and keep the young newlyweds well fed during the long journey to the Valley of Living Rock, where the trolls lived in the far north of Norway's countryscape.

It was a long trip, but with the summer weather being so seasonably warm—it actually reached 65 degrees Fahrenheit this afternoon—and the countryside so lovely to sightsee, with its green trees and flowers, the company none too disagreeable—after all Kristoff had along with him his lute guitar to play music and sing with Sven during the ride, whilst the perky Anna would often take the helm of sled driver.

This journey promised to be full of wonderful memories of their first days together as a married couple, although Bulda had strictly instructed her baby boy, cutie Kristoff, that he and Anna wouldn't be completely wedded until they were trollfully married by Great Grandpabbie himself.

So that meant hands off the little lady until after the second ceremony. The platonic relationship would just have to stand until the Valley of Living Rock was reached, and with all due speed, Sven, if you've got anxious new husband Kristoff's drift.

"Oh, come here, Olaf!" Elsa's hand extends to the neglected snowman, needing both hugs and attention. She and Anna bear his snowy touch with sprinkles of personal flurry in a three way embrace.

"Warm group hug time!" Anna sings out with gusto. Her emotional rollercoaster of a day soared to the new high of a loving smile that the magical reflection of a happy memory between the two sisters that Olaf epitomized and always brought to the scene along with him.

"See? I'll be fine. I won't be alone. Olaf's always with me." Elsa whispers in her sister's ear as they part the hug.

"I love warm hugs. Make sure Kristoff gives you lots of warm hugs, Anna, cause I won't be there." Olaf explains to his friend in his simple, unembellished way, as if she'd miss him on her honeymoon as much as Olaf would miss her.

"Kristoff! You have to give Anna at least three warm hugs per day. I always do and she'll miss them!" Olaf loudly yells out the palace doors. His comical voice rings through the castle the silly order that makes Anna laugh hysterically and Kristoff blush as deeply as the red sunset over Arendelle at the thought of he and his new wife being intimately close in any tempting way between here and troll land.

"Here you go, my little Annie! I hope I packed enough food for you and your new hubby!" Now it was Gerda's turn for a warm hug.

The big woman made cooing noises as she lifted the overflowing basket so full of goodies that its wickered lid was popping up to reveal a bulge of jam, cookie tins and waxed papers full of carved, cold hams.

"Gerda! There's enough food in there for like an army—for like a month!" She helps Gerda to carry the heavy load in place of Olaf, Anna has only to take one peek in the crack of the unsealed basket lid to see that generously concerned for her dietary well-being Gerda, had really outdone herself this time.

"Well, you never know if the roads will be closed or there'll be a sudden thunderstorm and you can't drive your sled on, or you'll be stranded by an avalanche and you can't get to any food or water for days!" The doting servant worries prematurely, and hopefully, unnecessarily.

Anna nods with big, freaked out eyes and pursed lips at each disastrous unpleasant situation the housekeeper/cook just saddled her mind with.

"Don't worry, Gerda. I won't let any bad stuff happen to her. Official Ice Master and Deliverer's sworn promise." Kristoff manages a salute to the impressed woman, who was now ooh-ing and ahh-ing at his strapping brute strength as he then hefts the overpacked food basket with one hand up into the sled's cargo hold rear without his well-built, finely displayed muscles breaking a sweat, as they flex admirably in his short sleeved shirt, before her bedazzled eyes.

"Is that even a real title?" Kristoff flashes the badge he always kept tied around his neck, directly into Flynn's face that it nearly whacks him on his prized nose.

"Yup, it's real!" Anna happily answers for her husband, something Kristoff had better get used to with this saucy girl, as she dashes up and grabs his hand, just expecting him to be ready to launch her lithe body's bouncing momentum over the side rail and into her seat on the sled.

And without missing a beat, he does.

Rapunzel marvels at the couple's compatible rhythm, as they wordlessly and simultaneously lean in towards one another, with the kiss of their married life's new beginning—both in body and mind—and it seemed, even into the soul.

_I'm positive that my Eugene's body and soul belong to me…He's proven that in so many ways. I'm just not so sure about where his mind wanders sometimes…_

The beautiful brunette considers her own shaky, now tenuous, marital status after only five short years of bliss.

As if hearing her thoughts, Eugene's eyes meet her across the sunset with a tentative grin.

_See? What is that? What do I see hiding behind those puppy dog sad eyes of yours, Eugene? _Rapunzel forces herself to smile back just as tentatively, as he reaches across the front palace steps, where they were about to wave the newlywed couple off, to brush back a loosened hair lock askew upon her forehead.

_God, you're still just as stunning in this amazing sunset playing magic tricks on your hair, Blondie. _Flynn's deft hand caresses her closed adoring eyes and her soft freckled cheek for an everlasting moment, Rapunzel reveling in his sparsely adequate touch of late.

_I just wish I had a few more magic tricks up __**my**__ sleeve._

As a distant foghorn blows in the distance, Flynn's tender palm just as suddenly falls away, his attention to the loving insecure girl following suit as his hand sinks and his handsome ever present stubbled face turns away from the blissful scene of the two young lovebirds and their well-wishers bidding them a fortuitous journey amidst the quickly fleeting sunset's final rays.

* * *

><p>"I promise to take good care of Anna from now on." Kristoff pledges to Elsa's already lonely yet brave eyes, as the bridal couple ready themselves to depart on their new adventure.<p>

"Thank you." They're the only two words left for Elsa to say as the Queen stands up on her tippy toes to give her sister a goodbye kiss.

Seeing this, Kai rushes over to give Elsa's feather light body a boost—just as he did when they were little children, when they wished to reach something too high up on the Christmas tree.

Anna's lovely face was in full bloom—just as glowing now as it was then, when her sister embraces her fondly, Kai looking on proudly.

"Bye, Elsa! Bye, Olaf! Bye-bye, everybody! Here we go! Jeg elsker deg! I love you!" She cries out, as they drive away into the sunset.

"Jeg savner deg…" Elsa whispers to the warm summer winds. _'I miss you…'_

That low bellowing foghorn from some distant sea vessel blows again a second time more urgently and Flynn's gaze roams towards something unseen beyond the fjord, something even beyond the sea into the darkness looming black and thick, even as Kristoff and Anna's happy sled of spirited love, pulled by Sven's strong furry body drives along the Northwest path until it disappears into the final embers of the short summer sun's last rays in the thankfully opposite direction of those foreboding shadows to the southeast of Arendelle castle.

Its unsuspecting queen waves a fond farewell (along with a light coating of ice to easily start hardworking Sven's path) to her precious littler sibling on her way to a bright future ahead.

There were only traces of tears behind her brave eyes as she gives a silent prayer for her baby sister.

_God go with you, Anna._

With a peaceful smile from within her now tranquil warm soul, Elsa watches the happy couple ride off into the glorious sunset to begin their lives together as one, no longer two.

Upon Arendelle's peaks, faint hints of the Northern Lights sparkle their revolving dance of prismatic magic all around Elsa as she stands alone, left behind by the dusky cooling summer breezes swirling their mysteries all about her…


	5. Chapter 4 - Relics of a Dream

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 4**

"**Relics of a Dream"**

As the July moon rises high above the Arendelle castle, a lone dark figure scales its creamy brick and stone walls across the shingles of its raised roof trusses until his furtive slim form reaches a certain high peaked window of the structure's center tower.

Without much trouble, for he _found_ this particular window entrance unlocked, the intruder opens it to slip through the tight window leading into the castle chapel's upper choir nave. He attaches a roped cord across a huge grunnstokker beam, securing it closed with a professional touch that only experience taught, before expertly swinging down, using momentum to bounce back and forth from rafter to rafter, over the pentice and aisles until he stealthily slides down the rope. Its end was securely tied around his ribcage to hover over the chapel altar and the historical, holy treasures that were still in candlelit display, as per tradition of royal weddings and baptisms.

A surreptitious black gloved hand reaches down towards the hallowed altar and wraps sly, thieving fingers around this country's most cherished symbols in all the land—Saint Olaf's sacred orb and kingly scepter. The pair of ancient 11th Century artifacts once wielded by the very first ruler of a united Norway, were lifted to the thief's suspended eye level…

* * *

><p>It was late that night, once the wedding festivities died down, the weddng guests departed and the extra hired servants and ecclesiastical church members retired for the evening, that Queen Elsa finds her exhausted body from the rigorous labors of a strenuous, yet wonderful day, quite unable to sleep.<p>

She was restless again—as often she felt in times when she was alone. The entire castle and its overworked staff were too tired for a bout with sleeplessness—even Olaf, who had thoroughly worn himself out all day and night, dancing and partying in his special way, was also now sound asleep, snow snoring in his porcelain snow 'bed,' specially crafted to catch the stray snow flurries from his personal cloud and create and insulated pillow of fresh powder to rest his sleepy snow head on in Anna's bedroom, which he shared.

_Anna's former bedroom…_

Elsa smiles to herself, wondering how far Kristoff and Anna had gotten to tonight already—_traveling distance, strictly speaking-_as she envisions the surprise for them when they return of the sectioned off wing of the castle she was secretly having redecorated and refurbished to be the newly married couple's 'private' quarters—where they'd have the freedom of being left alone to their own kitchen, dining, and sitting rooms, not to mention several bedrooms, replete with double bunk beds. After all, the kransekake did predict at least six beds needed to be filled.

Elsa suppresses a giggle at the thought of six pairs of pitter-pattering feet skipping and playing and racing up and down the spiral staircase in this castle that had been aching for attention and love that only happy children's sounds and sights knew how to fill.

_Creak Creak Creak_

That wasn't merely a figment of her fertile imagination filled with blonde-headed little ones skittering and sliding around the palace, come to life now.

Elsa stops still in her tracks. Her keen ears perk up as she pauses before entering her usual sleepless night and early morning house of refuge—the Holy Chapel of Arendelle, which served as this repentant Queen's haven of peace and stronghold of tranquility. And now, this sacred bastion of her trusted sanctuary—

-was being raided by a common thief in the night.

"Who are you?! Unhand those sacred relics immediately!" The frightened young girl of yesteryear had been forged by ice, not fire, to stand up for what she believed in. She was raised to be a monarch under Christ, so neither her faith, nor her duty to country would tolerate this holy violation.

But when the dark hooded caped thief ignores her royal order, and scurries up his rope connected to the roof to escape, Queen Elsa, sovereign ruler of the Kingdom of Arendelle, singular monarch of the United Country of Norway, and appointed Head of the Church of Norway, in St. Olaf's pious, yet righteous footsteps, takes matters into her own more than capable hands.

Summoning up her normally stored cryokinetic energies, she sends an intricate pinpointed volley of icy blasts across the Holy shrine at the unknown, fleeing miscreant.

From the distance they had between them, the ice blast makes direct contact with the lower part of the thief's arm. He cries out in pain of instant frostbite and his injured hands lets go of St. Olaf's scepter, sending it clattering down to the altar table, then bouncing across the wooden slatted floor.

"Stop! I order you to stop and return that sacred Orb! Or I will be forced to completely freeze you and you may die." Elsa recognized her powers well enough to know how deadly they could be. She swore to herself, before God, that she would never use her special gifts to harm anyone ever again, but what of justice in preserving all that her kingdom held holy? She pauses before loosing her pent up powers. Her hands were both aglow with the ice's pale bluish light as she rushes towards the altar, her aim sure to be precise now.

But the soul-searching question burning in her ice-unleashed angered heart is answered seconds before she was to let go of her fully powered ice crystal fractals targeted to stop this criminal from desecrating their exalted king's artifacts, placed into her care, for the lifespan of her reign.

In the midst of it all, she hears for a split second that voice echoing in her head: _Don't be the monster they fear you are!_

And her heart stops beating in her chest. The master thief clinging to the cord of his escape route upwards, with his one good arm, was also capable of _stealing_ one's heart as he calculates the inner kindness and benevolence of this nation's leader—no, the tenderness of a young woman.

Using this moment of her indecision, and realizing the extent of her powers—that she could carry out her threat—he throws back his head, the black hooded cape falling back to reveal…

"Tell her…Tell her she'll always be my dream." And with those heartwrenched final words, said with a resigned lump in his throat and overwhelmed regretful tears transparent in his brown eyes directly locking with Elsa's shocked ones, Eugene Fitzherbert returns back to the thieving, lonely life of Flynn Rider. He quickly climbs the remainder of the rope and bolts from the uppermost window, disappearing as a shadow into the night.

Flynn had calculated correctly. In allowing him to escape, Elsa's appalled brain spins with every emotion—even ones she'd never experienced before in her young life, on this level.

Shock, betrayal, sorrow, confusion, shame, hurt, loss, suspicion, fear. Always fear.

And yet amidst all of this terrible, unforeseen implausible situation—there was still love clearly apparent in Eugene's eyes when he turned his face to her.

"Queen Elsa! Are you unharmed?!" Soon, rotund Kai comes barreling in, tugging on his dark green coat with several palace guards in all states of undress and unkemptness, for their benevolent Queen had given the entire palace attendance force the rest of the evening off in honor of Princess Anna's wedding.

Elsa never imagined such a happy, peaceful night could be broken by this distressing upset.

"Yes." Turning to face the sleepy palace guards and a worried Kai, Elsa's mind races to keep up with the speed of her pounding heart's unfurling decisions that only she could adjudicate in these few rapid, life-altering moments.

"Please forgive me for alarming you all. I am so sorry to have disturbed you vigilant good men from your precious off-duty time." She starts the white lie with a disarming apology and matching sincere smile to each servant's relieved face.

"Your Queen was just a little clumsy and tripped as she was finishing her evening devotions and prayers, while returning Arendelle's regalia back into their holdings for safety." She says in some honesty, but now for the little extra rimed frost on the truth's edges.

"St. Olaf's Orb is…away, already." She bites her lip, hoping none would pick up her word-wielding deceit. The holy object was literally 'away,' just a different kind of 'away' than Elsa was inferring.

_More like getting away…_

"Ah, there is the sacred scepter I dropped. Beloved St. Olaf, do forgive your descendant's late night, unintentional and uncoordinated accident." She truly was sending up a prayer as she falls to her knees. Kai and every other servant in the room follow suit, with similarly solemnly bowed heads, to the statue of the sainted past king. She honestly regretted this purposeful misleading of her good and loyal subjects—and also for losing his sacred Orb, which she herself, along with every other past ruler, was coronated with as a symbol of the nation's dominion over this great land.

She lifts above her genuflected head, from the chapel's floor where it had dropped from some twenty foot height, the royal scepter. She, too, maintained it as a symbol of power and strength—and courage…

Elsa closes her eyes and swallows hard as her mind forges a difficult path ahead that this kingdom's heir knew she must travel alone.

* * *

><p>"I heard the Sea Wolf howl tonight." The man in a dark hooded cape places a hand to his mouth as he speaks, both projecting the words and muffling their indecipherable coded meaning, except to the intended listener's ears, as he stands alone in the small dinghy he had rode around the fjord's bends to this particular shielded cove.<p>

"How many times did she howl?" A raspy, deep voice from somewhere on board the ship the smaller craft had docked alongside, calls back in responsive code.

"Thrice." The dinghy's lone occupant answers the query, obviously correct, for a rope ladder soon thereafter is tossed over the class schooner vessel's edge.

_Click Shuffle Click Shuffle_

The sun just begins to peek over the forward deck of the well-worn ocean faring ship, so named the 'Pearl Lady' by her illustrious captain. Although her moniker belied the older vessel's history of bloody, fierce sea battles, in her heyday, the 'Pearl' was widely feared throughout the seven seas she traversed. Boarding and raiding unsuspecting passenger ships, looting and pillaging and plundering its way through the high seas it had circumnavigated the globe in search of ultimate treasure.

For the past three centuries, at least concerning Western culture's waters, the term 'pirate' has made a fearsome name for itself to any soul who traveled the fathomless depths of waters, criss crossed between land masses.

Creative and cunning, charismatic and cruel, this diverse spray of ruthless individuals had been renowned and feared all through the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, when they each made their mark on history, upon the waves with their soaring bravado and antagonistic attitude on their quest for ill-gotten fortune or misplaced fame that each pirate ship captain enjoyed for a specific short-lived period of time in their respective waters.

Though nowadays, clashing with the 19th century's more civilized, God-fearing exploration and implantation of society as newly discovered worlds and unchartered territories become an interest of the past—even to the point of changing the fearsome name of 'pirate' to the more palatably pleased 'privateer' or debonairly dashing 'corsair.'

Neither of which this clinging to past glories, last but not least, scourge of the high seas, Dutch Captain Houtebeen II claimed to be every bit as cruel and crude and rough as his similarly dubbed early buccaneer turned pirate in every true meaning of the word, great-great-grandfather before him, Cornelious Jol. He had been the first in a long line of Dutch seamen, but where son and grandson, and great grandson abandoned the life of piracy on the seas to merely join the Dutch navy as officers commanding it, this aging descendant would be the one closest to keeping their family's revered patriarch alive.

And as ill-luck and crippling accident (plank giving way) would have it, this seafaring Jol would also share something else of his great-grandpappy beyond the big, burly red hair and rough and tumble adventurer's lust—namely his Houtebeen, translated in the Dutch to 'wooden leg.' It was a fitting nickname to his predecessor pegleg and also applied well to this Captain Houtebeen II.

Eyes gaze up as he climbs the rope, seeing by the deck's edge a bit of the wooden notched leg and a menacing sneer that greeted the newcomer, whose able body bragged of its fitness, save for a slightly frostbitten arm as he finishes climbing the rope ladder to throw his long legs over the Pearl Lady's railing to land squarely upon its neatly swabbed deck.

But there was no trace of the peg leg anywhere in sight.

_That old coot can move fast for having only one leg and one eye… _Flynn thinks as he glances about the deck.

"And what took ye so long, Flynn Rider?" A dark skinned, muscular man with a dark moustache and a just as dark brandished pistol, stands in for the over half a century-old patch-eyed peg legged pirate captain and glowers at the handsome thief over the gun's sighting.

"You've had over three days to get the goods, thief. The Cap'n don't be taking too kindly to bein' landlocked and docked for more'n a day's shore leave. Makes 'im reckless." The first mate himself was giving slick Flynn a suspicious once over, the dangerous weapon in his hand still aimed at threatening eye level to Flynn's unflinching head.

"I'm feeling a little restless myself with that weapon trained on me. Do you mind?" Flynn infers, putting his two hands up disarmingly before the first mate, who merely smirks, keeping the gun fixed on him.

"We might be beginnin' to think ye weren't goin' to show up at the third sound of the Pearl Lady's foghorn blasts!" The dark man expounds as he lowers the business end of the firearm ever so slightly.

"Well…here I am. They say third time's the charm." Flynn responds, running off at the mouth as usual with his bravado kicking in when he was feeling stressed.

"Let us go below deck to the Cap'n's quarters. He'll be itchin' to have ye there. I just hope yer luck doesn't run out." The first mate ominously comments as he leads a wary Flynn Rider down into the Pearl Lady's darkened holdings beneath, with naught but the now blocked out moonlight to show the way.

"I'll be warnin' ye, the pegleg's in a foul mood tonight." The dark man whispers in the pitch darkness as he somehow, from years of sea life, identified which door led to his captain's aft cabin and knocked three times, strangely rhythmic upon it.

_Foul is the key word for this place._ Flynn thinks to himself as upon the gruff voiced 'Enter,' he is swept inside the dark quarters of Captain Houtebeen, with all its pungent odors and dank sights.

"Vat took you so long, Rider? Ye not tinkin' of goin' yellow-bellied back on our deal, is ye?" He wipes his reddish, yet now grey beard with the back of his hand before slamming it threateningly on the wooden table he was seated at.

Pointing the fork and rather large knife laid on the table, the Captain seemed to be preparing for a meal as he squints at Flynn with his one good eye.

"Well, you know…stuff happens at weddings. Dancing, kransekake, Snow Queens…" In true 'Flynn-esque' style, he starts rattling off, but that wouldn't fly here as the impatient Dutchman grabs the knife from the table and aims it at Flynn's chattering neck.

"Sit down and be silent! Ye don't speak of food ven Houtebeen hasn't had his breakfast yet!" The aging pirate orders grumpily.

With 'help' from the first mate's firm hand, Flynn obeys and sits with a splat on the chair facing opposite the Captain, feeling rather discomfited to be eyed greedily by a big man wielding a fork and knife hungrily.

"Vere is dat lazy boy?! He's late! Find my breakfast, Job. Don't let dat toff slack off. –Oh, here he is."

Just as the ill-tempered Captain was to blow a grumpy-old-man headgasket open, much to his long suffering, patient first mate's shaking head, the 'lazy boy' in question gives some well-mannered, quick gentle taps to the open door before entering with a balanced tray in hand.

"Pardon my tardiness, Sir." The auburn-haired lad was learning lessons of submission and concession in a hands-on type of way, as he was becoming accustomed to bowing and scraping his noble head to others nowadays.

"I hope this new hashed and browned, sautéed potato recipe with your eggs is to your liking, Captain." Without even lifting his reverent head, Hans still manages to make eye contact with a wide-eyed Flynn, who was mildly surprised to see, on this dirty old pirate ship, a civilized, though hardly well-dressed or cared for, European young man. His flustered hair was askew on his sweaty brow, grease and dirt and food cutting residue left on his tattered shirt sleeves—although through the mess and stains and dark-eyed weariness, there was yet an air of grace (_And sideburns…gotta love the sideburns.)_ about his handsome _(not half as good-looking as me, mind you) _face and thin, worn out good postured stance, even as he bows his way to back out of the Captain's room.

"Mmmhmmm…this is rather tasty. At least dat boy can cook a proper potato. Ye can alvays judge a man by how vell he handles a potato." The Dutch-born captain sentimentally recalls his culture's roots in a momentary bout of nostalgia. He thoughtfully chows down on the new-fangled dish that his cook/cabin boy/deckhand/slave just invented.

"Now there's a proverb to stick to a man's ribs." Flynn's sarcastic joke goes not well-received though. The Captain's short turn of good humor at the delicious meal he was enjoying evaporated in an ephemeral seafoam cloud.

"Ye do not please me! Ye scabbanes dog!" The anger rose in this Houtebeen's face and was in contrast to his fading mass of graying red long hair and beard as he ferociously shoves the remainder of his meal—plate and eggs and tasty hash browns and all—to the floor, as he seethes at Flynn.

"I have this strange effect on people." Flynn murmurs at his own personality flaws, with a frown, then recovers swiftly.

"Soooo, here's your silly trinket. I've kept my end of the deal, as a gentleman thief. So I expect you to keep yours as a…you know…'gentleman' of the high seas and leave Corona's king and queen alone in peace. And we'll just call it a day." Flynn prattles as he carefully unwraps from his satchel Arendelle's treasured Orb thingy and plunks it on the table with a hopeful smile.

The rounded gold and Christian cross decorated relic of blessed St. Olaf gleams in the few rays of sun just piercing through the cabin's aft windows to give the ancient eight centuries' old artifact a glow of holiness, so much so that First Mate Job, still watching silently in skulking shadows, gasps and makes the sign of the cross in deference.

"Ja! Aye! Dis is a key piece to de puzzle! Yes, all should be revealed here." Captain Houtebeen's bedazzled eye glimmers as he delicately scoops up the jewel-encrusted gold artifact and begins to study its outside perimeter critically as he holds it up to the rising morning sunlight.

"Great! I'm glad you like it! Fits right in with your décor here…and since you got what you wanted, and promised to give me what I want…I'll go now and we'll hopefully have to never see one another again." Oozing charm to cover up his nerves, Flynn gets up from his chair and starts talking his back out of a corner, so to speak, aware that the ship's first mate, the big muscular dark man named 'Job,' was still blocking the passage.

"Aye, ye young scalliwag. Cap'n Houtebeen is a man of his word!" The yellow, partially attended toohy grin on the old pirate makes Flynn both smile and cringe at the sheer hideousness of the creature.

But as long as the old geezer was so taken with that Orb, it'd be all clear sailing from here. Excepting—

_Or not._

"Ye've not been a man of yours, ye filthy, lying, double-crossing, dirty cur!"

Flynn had no idea how a man with only one leg could maneuver so swiftly, but Flynn was laid out flat, with his back to the wall, as the merry, greedy grin on Houtebeen's face just moments ago, warps into a menacing one-eyed glower directly in Flynn's face.

_Breath mint, anyone?_

"What have ye done wit de royal scepter? Our deal vas for dat piece, too! If yer holdin' out on me, I'll swear I'll tear ye heart out and feed it to me pet piranhas, here." With unbelievable force, the aged Captain slams Flynn against his pride and joy fish tank—which housed several full grown and fully hungry flesh eating predator fish of the deep sea.

"Yes, me boyos, he does look a tasty treat, don't he?" Houtebeen torments Flynn by discussing his demise with the eagerly hopping in and out of their water tank piranha fishies.

He motions for Job to press Flynn's head dangerously close to the tank's water surface.

"L-look, wait! I don't have it—I swear! Get me up!" Flynn cries out as he feels the grazing teeth of one high-jumping fish on his poor, stubbly chin. Job's strong arm, after a glance to his Captain, stiffens and relents, yet holds Flynn in place.

"Well, master thief, how did dat particular valuable piece get left behind? The pair of relics have alvays been kept together in dat kingdom."

"Have my sources of yer alleged skills as a thief been wrong? Don't be sayin' ye merely forgot de scepter, ye blackguard!" The Captain cruelly quizzes the man now firmly clutched by Job's strong arm as he's permitted to stand again, to face the angered Captain in the one eye.

"I didn't forget it. Look, I had both pieces for you in my hand. But when I was shot at, I had to drop the Scepter. I kept going with the Orb, as not to get caught, so you'd have at least one item, okay? Simple enough." Flynn answers honestly.

"Ye lying dog! If ye're shot at by de guards, de alarm would've got out across de kingdom! And it hasn't yet, for yer arrest, has it? Yer story be soundin' fishier and fishier to me, Flynn Rider." Captain Houtebeen motions for Job to push Flynn back down toward the fish tank's danger and this time, all the way.

"I don't know! Maybe they don't want the publicity of losing such legendary regalia." His garrulous mouth tries to stall. "Maybe word gets out slower here…"

Job shakes his head and continues to plunge Flynn downwards and he already started to feel the jaws of death salivating greedily for him.

"Maybe the Queen didn't want to tell anyone that she tried to shoot me down!" Though hysterically desperate to save his face (_and beautiful nose_) from being devoured by the ravenous critters as Job continues to press harder towards dunking the struggling man headfirst under the waters, Flynn almost whispers that last excuse.

He was almost reasoning inside his own head that a good, loving cousin like Elsa may just rather cover up his misdeeds than confess them to her poor, beleaguered cousin that he claimed as his wife.

_Rapunzel, you married a scumbag, you know that? Might not need to worry about me embarrassing you much longer, though…_

He smiles at the thought of her, despite the dire circumstances of Job's large, powerful hand around his neck.

"Ye say de Queen of Arendelle herself was de one who spotted and attacked ye?" Houtebeen raises a hand for Job to pause again, out of curiosity. "Vat sort of high and mighty monarchy has dere Queen armed and dangerous at all hours of de night in a church wit no guards to protect her?" Captain Houtebeen has seen many a fierce battle, even concerning and Kings and Queens within their ship cabins on vessels he's raided.

But he'd yet to see one toff-nosed snob of a royal house lift a weapon at him, never mind fire it.

"Let's just suffice it say that Queen Elsa doesn't need anyone else's protection. She's got her own back and I wouldn't mess with her if I were you." Flynn adds, wishing that piranha had bitten his rambling tongue first.

But this pirate had been spending most of his time in Caribbean waters and had not heard the rumors yet of the 'Snow Queen.'

"Interesting kingdom…with a dangerous Queen in charge…a clever lady…" Captain Houtebeen strokes his grey beard as the wheels and rudders in his mind slowly turn over the decision to seek and destroy this mysterious woman, who could best a well-known master thief at his own quickness and cunning, to claim the missing item.

But fortunately for Elsa and her innocent Arendelle, the rising sun on the shining waters of the fjord illuminate the Orb that the Captain was brooding over. His examining eye catches a symbol well researched that indicated a secret button latch upon its surface.

"Voila!" The world traveled man cries out and with unmitigated joy, the golden Orb, so weighty and balanced, it appeared to be made of solid gold, pops open its lid to reveal a fist sized stone with an array of ancient carvings upon its granite rock—symbols and runes placed on the stone in a pattern that could only mean, to a trained eye—a map.

Captain Houtebeen, the aging pirate, had plundered and tortured and ruthlessly desecrated holy areas to move heaven and earth for such a find.

"Luck be smilin' on ye, thief, for the scepter is unnecessary it seems. Everyting I need is right here. Job! Hoist de sails. Weigh de anchors. But first, put dis cur in de brig."

"Heey~!" Flynn cries out as he's now shoved towards the door.

"He's only fulfilled half our bargain, so I've work fer him yet. But fer now, I have vat I vanted…"

The capable one man crew of Job silently does as instructed. He strong-arms a smart-enough-to-know-when-one-was-bested-by-a-larger-man-who-had-the-savvy-to-keep-Flynn's-'magic'-hands-bound-the-entire-journey-down-to-the-ship's-bilges Flynn, and into the brig where he is unceremoniously tossed to the ground and locked in a cage. Job adds several extra deadbolt locks to stymie the master thief from thinking he could ever pick its lock.

"What? No complimentary breakfast in this…eww…well-rated establishment? A man's gotta eat to be good for anything. Even if the scents around here are rather odoriferous for my usually dietary—ouch…!" Flynn wrinkles his nose from the smelly dirt floor it was rudely shoved against.

_Always the nose…_

He struggles to get up after his tall, big captor ensures his submission by roping his legs together tightly as well.

"I'll see what I can do, _Master." _Slapping a pair of metal handcuffs around Flynn's wrists, the former slave turned mercenary gives the cynical man, prone on the floor a lordly smirk as he then proficiently adds the deadlock on the cell door. He purposely pockets the skeleton keys of the multiple locks, securing the stall cage door, preventing Flynn's escape.

"Whew…! Another fine mess you've gotten yourself into." Once he's alone, Flynn laughs at his penchant for unintentional trouble as he struggles about the filthy floor in an attempt to loosen his bindings.

"Whew, that big guy can tie a whopper of a knot!" The stubble-chinned man whistles under his breath. His nimble, thieving fingers were trying their darndest to free his tied legs, but to no avail.

"Argh! Now what?" Flynn thrashes about in vain to free his legs, then closes his eyes to recall his backup plan, for when everything went wrong, that he always had on hand.

Some time passes with no sound but the crashing waves as the old pirate ship leaves dock.

"Nope. Nada. Nothing. All that wedding cake and wine and partying last night is really slowing me down. Either that or I'm just getting too old for this kind of—wahhhh!"

After giving himself a good talking to as 31 year 'old man' Flynn Rider was wont to run off at the mouth at all times—even troubled ones.

His eyes snap open to see a fellow cell occupant staring straight back at him, dead in the eye.

And when we say 'dead', this other caged prisoner was reduced to nothing more than a skeleton. The bony skull of which, poor unlucky Flynn had ended up in his wriggling, to be mere centimeters from, face to face.

"That's not even remotely funny." He comments on the side to no one, giving his skeleton friend, who cheerily was displaying what was in Flynn's future, a rolled-eye smirk.

"I've gotta find a way outta here! Before I go stir crazy!" The free spirit of liberated man Flynn Rider valued his freedom and independence more than anything.

_That and my girl, Blondie…who freely gave me that freedom. _

_And I just threw it away._

"What are you laughing at, Smiley?!" A frustrated Flynn so dubs the nameless skeleton head, whose jaw did seem to be in a rather jocular position (if your imagination got away with you in the darkness, that is).

"He always looks like that." A calm voice cuts through the brig's still darkness. Flynn's ears prick up as he hears keys being turned and cage door being opened.

"Even if you tell him a bad joke."

Flynn's eyes struggle against the single lamp lighted in the filmy blackness at the man who entered, balancing along with him a rather full tray of food and drink—silver service, dainty folded napkin, golden teapot and all.

"Whoa! Maybe I shouldn't have lodged a complaint with the management here, after all! Where did you learn to serve a meal like this, pall? Not onboard a pirate schooner, I dare say." Flynn sits up, with some difficulty, and again takes notice of the puzzling cabin boy/ship's cook he had seen serve breakfast to that rascally one-eyed peg leg earlier.

"I dare say." The handsome, young man answers pleasantly, yet reflectively rhetorical. He quietly changes the unhappy subject as he clears a makeshift table and places the tray upon it, spreading out the flatware and tea service as if attending to royalty.

"Do you take one lump or two in your tea?"

Flynn was starting to be able to make out the features of his new 'jailer' as his eyes adjusted to the dim lamplight.

The man wasn't much more than in his mid-twenties, though he had all the airs and graces of a gent of forty. His oval face, surrounded a shock of auburn brown hair, complete with sideburns, was pulled back into a tidy little ponytail, though his eyes looked sad and worn with worry.

Yet still, his high cheekbones, long straight nose and strong chin were undeniably of proud heritage.

_Not too bad looking a fella behind that girly apron. A snob for sure, but I won't hold that against him._

Flynn muses as the man cuts off the rope at his feet to pull up a small stool to the upside down wooden bucket table and motions for him to sit.

"Five stars for your exquisite dinner setting, handsome. But I don't think silverware and I will be exactly 'sympatico.'" Flynn holds his cuffed and bound hands up to the light.

"Well…"

The man seemed to be turning the consequences over in his mind. Flynn's eyebrows were raised hopefully up at him.

"Are you predominantly right handed or left handed, Sir?"

_Strange question. Okay…_

Flynn's right eyebrow cocks ruefully as he decides to play it out.

"Right handed like most regular blokes." Flynn answers nonchalantly, warily eyeing his captor.

"Fine." The cabin boy purposely displays the handcuffed keys before Flynn's eager face. "If you promise, as a gentleman, not to endeavor to escape from this prison cell—"

"Ohhh, I do, I do, I do! I mean, heck no, I won't go. You can trust me, buddy. Scouts honor." Flynn gives his lenient companion his most charming smile, banging his own precious nose with the handcuffs in an attempt to salute like a good, little obedient soldier.

"Good…as long as we have one another's utmost trust." He unlocks a handcuff until the ratchet falls and unhinges Flynn's left hand and it was free.

But much to Flynn's chagrin, the man clamps the loose end of the cuff he'd just removed, still attached to his right hand, to one of the cell bars above the 'table' and places a fork in Flynn's shocked left hand instead.

"Now. Was that one or two sugars in your tea? Do eat while your hash browns and eggs are somewhat warm."

Flynn just looks up at him and blinks with his mouth hanging open. Then he smrks.

"What would you say if I told you I was lying when I said I was right handed?" Flynn clutches the fork and spins it around in his deft fingers as if wielding a weapon, struggling to gain the key ring from the turnkey's belt strap, as he hooks the fork into his opponent's loose apron strings about his neck, yanking his head towards the metal bars with a bang.

"It wouldn't matter because I know you are truly ambidextrous as well as an inherent liar." The self-possessed, observant auburn haired man grunts out, rubbing his bashed, aching head with his right hand, after dropping the cup of hot tea in it to the table. (Thoroughly ruining the fine eggs and hash browned potatoes meal—_alas.)_

"Unfortunately for you—" The cabin boy and master thief were about to be at a standstill in one hand to one hand close quarters combat, as Flynn's forked hand is surprisingly thwarted by the slighter man's strategy of quickly pulling his head through the apron that Flynn was yet fork-entangled in.

He then spins the thin cloth around and around the cell bars, until Flynn was completely pinned to it and now both his appendages were bound to the cell.

"—so am I." When he finishes his swift victory with a flourishing, haughty bow, his fully functional left hand shows off as he uses it to pour another cup of the scalding hot tea from the heavy off balance pot and set it down on the soggy table as his right hand simultaneously lets himself out of the cell and uses too useful left hand to tightly shut every lock with a ring full of skeleton keys galore.

"What? _cough cough_ Ambidextrous? - Or a liar?" Flynn, even in humiliation of his face pinned against the cold, iron bars, both hands fettered, shackled and restrained, recognized that he might have just met his equal in cunning, ingenuity, and ruthless hand to hand combat.

"Hmph…I deserved that." Comes the thoughtful, remorseful reply. "Touche'". He concedes, and turns back to loosen the fast slipknot he had tied the apron strings around Flynn's one free arm and neck, catching the guilty fork with his confessed ambidextrous other hand as he does so.

He hands the cutlery back to a sore necked, but otherwise uninjured Flynn through the cell bars and offers him a conciliatory smile.

"By the way, my name is Hans Westergaard. Not that it matters to anyone anymore."

Hans sticks his hand through the bars in gentlemanly greeting. Their little scrap didn't deflate his opinion of this man one iota—in fact, some respect was earned on both sides this strange morn.

"Flynn Rider." He eyes the hand of the apparent nobleman before shaking it.

"I take four lumps. I prefer things sweet." Flynn utilizes his one free hand to plunk four sugar cubes into his tea cup, letting the brew mix as he swirls the dark waters around.


	6. Chapter 5 - Chin up, Sailor!

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 5**

"**Chin Up, Sailor"**

As the Pearl Lady begins to move quickly across the waters beyond the Arendelle fjord with the new morning's wind in its sails, and a stolen map in its Captain's vile hands, the kingdom's Queen stands at the Castle's balcony to watch it go with a deep heaviness in her heaving breast.

She sensed inside that this was the ship taking her country's treasure along with Eugene away with it across the sea.

_Should I give chase to retrieve our nation's relics into the wild unknown? Or must I remain here at my post—steady and sure and forever shamed? Who can I tell of what occurred last night? Who should I ask for counsel and assistance? Faithful Kai? Loyal Johanne? Or truehearted Gerda? All three of them would think of my own personal safety first and only—after all, that's what those dear, sweet people have always done for Anna and I. I wish you were here, Anna. You'd know what to do…_

_Well, at least we'd be doing it together, whatever we decided. But I remember that Papa said there are times a good leader must stand up and be counted. Even when the dangers ahead are innumerable, if it is God's will, we will succeed. _

_Isn't that the lesson valiant St. Olaf fought for, died for, was martyred for, as he allowed God to determine his path._

"Dear Lord, please guide my path. Although it may be a difficult road you choose for me, I will bravely face this pilgrimage as would my father before me, to restore Arendelle's heritage."

Elsa had fallen to her knees in fervent prayer at the symbolized cross and statues placed reverently on her night table. Both her hands cling to the Scepter belonging to their revered St. Olaf as she steels her mind and heart to keep her immense powers roiling inside her emotions in check, just as she has been training to be able to do and take on this terrifying new task alone.

No guards nor soldiers of the realm could be involved in this tawdry affair of betrayal she'd rather be kept secret, especially fromhis—

"Knock Knock! Oh, sorry for just barging in, Elsa. That sure sounds like a pretty intense prayer first thing in the morning. Wow! You guys really know how to give praise and glory to God around here! Gotta try that when we get back home. It must be wonderful to be so…I don't know…assured. Well, it looks like it's really working for you, so I'll leave you to it. Sorry…!" A cheery, bubbly and overtalkative cousin Rapunzel, the very person Elsa did not want to be confronted with just now, innocently pokes her cute little nose in Elsa's bedroom door, mistaking her relation's soulful agitation for devout prayerful customs.

"No, not at all, Cousin Rapunzel. I'm fine. I was just finished. Is there something you wish to see me about? Are you all right?" Elsa switches her question with a more sisterly smile, still working on that 'human approach' her more demonstrative younger sibling was always egging her 'stiffness' about.

But years of lonely study, of proper etiquette and form, in practical solitude, cut off from the normalcy of informal human idiosyncrasies in behavior could do that to a girl.

"Ummm…" Rapunzel was, like Anna, an expressive young female, sometimes in need of an outlet for her surging emotions. And she was just about ready to unload after a night filled with self-recriminations and anxiety. "Have you seen Eugene around anywhere? I've been looking everywhere for him. I mean, after the wedding and the reception and then we saw Anna and Kristoff off in their sled, and then we all went back inside. But Eugene said he needed to take a walk and get some air…And I just said 'Okay.' I just said _okay_…" She repeats emotionally.

"He never came back to our room. He never came to bed. I was waiting up for him all night. Do you think…do you think he's okay? Do you think he got lost or even worse, hurt out there? On this own? Do you think-" Rapunzel lets all her pent-up emotional fearful rant spill over with the tears that accompanied her small, insecure voice nearing the end of her tiny percentage of a questioning heart. For her beloved Eugene was acting peculiarly lately—all secretive and disappearing for days on end and never explaining why.

Hence the tension between them as of late.

But none of that mattered to her anymore. Not the strained silences, not the curious awkwardness, not the hurtful secrets that'd been bothering her still, at times, insecure mind.

She just wanted to have him back! The way they were before, for the past five happy, glorious unbelievably wonderful years together.

Rapunzel just wanted to love him again, unquestioningly, as young love should be.

_I should have trusted you. I shouldn't have asked so many times where you'd been…_

That initial argument from some two months ago that started all this unease and discomfort between the previously crazy-in-love pair weighs heavily on her heart.

"Do you think Eugene left me?" The tiniest voice of them all speaks of the once self-assured girl's fractured state of mind. Rapunzel overcome with emotion, bursts out in the unmitigated tears she's been trying to hide from everybody of the lonely aching idea of her funny, clever, beautiful Eugene, her best of friends, her affectionate, teasing ardent lover abandoning her when she needs him the most.

_I'm so scared to be without you anymore, Eugene._

"NO! No, my darling. He would never, ever leave you."

As she moves to tenderly hug her weeping friend and cousin close, hot tears fall to her once cold chest, Elsa discovers that her no longer frozen heart was compassionate and warm enough to truly empathize with someone she and Anna had become as close to as another sister.

She feels Rapunzel's pain intensely, especially since she herself had personal knowledge of Eugene's 'activities' the previous night. Though she didn't understand at all his reasons or motives for stealing Arendelle's crown jewels, so to speak, Elsa did clearly see love and deep caring for his wife plain in his eyes and in his touching words of the last message he wanted expressed to Rapunzel.

"Eugene loves you too much to just let you go. Anyone can see how much he cares for you, in his eyes." She explains, stopping to wipe the tears from the girl in her arms.

"Really…?" Rapunzel needed that type of assurance right now—a glimmer of hope peeking through her clouded with self-doubt and worry eyes. Pascal, who had been seated on her lap, his pupils large and sympathetic, changes his skin to a melancholy blue shade.

"Really." Elsa smiles, on the verge of backing down on her own decision to pursue the criminal thief in order to retrieve St. Olaf's Holy Orb. The Queen was already set to grant amnesty to the poor misled man who took it right before her eyes, and a full pardon when he returned—with or without the golden bauble, if it meant he would reunite with his adoring, wonderful, loving wife again.

"I even heard him say that you are still his dream. Wasn't that a sweet thing to sa—" Elsa hardly expected such a romantic notion of sentimental phrasing to cause such a violent response from her older cousin, as Rapunzel abruptly yanks her crying head back and gasps, grasping Elsa's shoulders with a pair of tensed, clawing hands.

"_**What **_did he say?! Elsa! Repeat to me exactly what Eugene said to you!" Rapunzel was near hysterical as she nearly shakes the arms of her taller relative out of their sockets. Poor forgotten Pascal skittered to the floor in her panic.

For all the noise her cousin was making, Elsa was grateful it was Gerda's noisy washing day. The dear woman always had a song on her lips when doing the laundry and it was loud enough to fill the palace, too.

Every one of her palace guards would have come running at the frantic tone of Rapunzel's panicked voice.

"It was just that! I—uh, let me see…he said…'Tell her that she's still my dream.' That's all. What is wrong with that statement, Rapunzel? What does it mean?" Elsa shivers at the effect those seven simple words had on the chestnut brown haired girl. The Queen herself was now starting to become alarmed.

"It means Eugene's in danger. And he doesn't think he's gonna make it back to me! Oh, Eugene! Wait for me, I'm coming! Elsa, we have to find him! Please help me! We have to save him!" Alerted by those few words to full panic mode, for she knew her love so well after all, Rapunzel starts dashing about the room like a madwoman, because the last time her husband had uttered those particular, sincere words—it was on his deathbed.

And the near tragic self-sacrificial scene replays in Rapunzel's chaotic mind, over and over until her entire body was shaking with fear for his safety, as she clutches at the damnably short cropped strands of her powerless, magic-defunct hair.

But she wasn't the only royal princess here in this room that was born—no, blessed—with mysterious magic running through her imperturbable veins. She was full of reined in passion, duty, sisterly devotion, and yes—yes, there was even repressed love.

_Perhaps I have a dream, too…_

A vision of vulnerable green eyes in her mind's eye, Elsa holds the Royal Scepter high as both women stand on the balcony to gaze at the ship sailing beyond the horizon…

* * *

><p>Summer's tropical fruits of coconuts and mangoes and the like line the sands surrounding the blanket laid upon the summer beach's hot burning summer sand.<p>

The shining blue waves gently crash to the shore as the summer wind's breeze across the sun-drenched morning's summer landscape.

Summer seagulls rhythmically caw their contentment with the peaceful ocean-meets-sand world below the perfect summer sky.

Is it me or do you see a certain seasonal pattern here?

"Doo da dee da do de…" Sitting in a colorful, floating raft, rubber ducky in tow, orange sliced ice drink in hand, Olaf the snowman suns himself on a little cove inlet on the fjord that had been created just for him by his dear friends at the castle for his turning two years old birthday present.

"I'm two years old this year! Yippee! I think I've grown a lot already since my birthday last week. I'm gonna be a big snowman soon, when I get even bigger and taller, I'll be an even happier snowman! Oh, oh! Maybe I'll need a better, bigger, snowier, personal flurry! I can't wait till Anna gets back to see me. She'll think I've grown so big!" Olaf was humming blissfully to himself with these delusional self-satisfying thoughts, wishing he had brought a ruler or measuring tape to gauge his stretching what must be inches taller already, heightened form. He pokes upwards with a stick hand at his now believed 'tiny' snow cloud that would no longer be adequately icy enough to match his 'humongous' birthday growth spurt.

"I'll talk to Elsa about getting me an upgrade." Olaf listlessly sways back and forth as he dips his fingers in the warm waters at the fjord's shore edge. "I love summer…" He deliriously announces aloud to the sun and sky above his prone form (and not melting, courtesy of tiny snow flurry) and puts his dark sunglasses over his eyes for a morning siesta while happy dreams are made on his new raft upon the gently swaying, still waters.

But this pleasant, idyllic summer world for a dreamer of a snowman was about to come to a chilling end.

Happy Olaf, daydreaming Olaf, drooling Olaf, lazily sips his tall glass of fruity beverage from a pink flamingo shaped straw as his raft calmly floats along the currents before he dozes off. Eyes closed tight for a summer nap, he was having so much fun in the sun as he hums a tune, spinning in circles, his wooden arm serving as a rudder—that Olaf fails to notice his multi-colored floating device was getting caught in the swirling current's downdraft. The indiscriminate waters were pulling him towards the docks…

* * *

><p>"Psst! Psst! Elsa! Psst!" Rapunzel's hissed whisper was a littler louder in volume than she intended as she hunkers down behind a set of barrels perched at the dock's edge for their pick up.<p>

If anyone had seen her, they surely would not have recognized the pretty brunette princess of Corona. Her already short hair (that Flynn Rider is a darn good hairdresser, amongst other desirable traits) had been chopped even shorter. She was wearing a pair of tall white knicker stockings pulled up over her grey trouser pants. Her plain, brown button-up shirt covered her tied down bust and loose fitting open vest made her look rather peasant rustic, plainly casual—and definitely boyish.

The drab colors of her attire helped, but the clincher for anyone to believe the wide-eyed cutie was not of the female variety was the loosely, and quite artistically placed, if I do say so myself, dark red bandanna draped across her forehead and draped over her ear as if to shield a painted on, partly revealed scar injury across her eyelid and down her made-up to be more manly toned, cheek.

Her other eye's squint was easily passable as a scrapper of a young boy in his barefooted teens.

"Who are ye callin' for, boy? Shouldn't ye be in schoolin', this fine morn?" A toothy old man roughly grabs the incognito Rapunzel by her shoulder and spins her around accusingly for playing truant.

"Ohhhh! I mean…uh, yeah, you bet, Mister. _cough cough"_ The startled girl remembers to suddenly change her rather high-pitched girlish voice to a rather lower toned masculine one. She succeeded more in her theatrical delivery than her vocal levels.

"What's wrong with ye, young fella? Sore throat's gotcha? Nothing catchin', I hope." The busybodied old coot suddenly recoils. His hypochondriac phobia of contagious disease lets go of her arm as if it were plagued and begins to back away. He suspiciously eyes her dilapidated face cover and slight, perhaps leperous, form getting to his overactive imagination full of newly discovered germs and sickness—all leading to death.

"No! Err, nope, I mean…" Pascal the chameleon peeks out from inside his girl's vest pocket, vacillating his colors with her every word, as the man cocks his head at her fishy story.

A flustered Rapunzel starts to freeze up, right at the start of their journey. She stares at her bare feet, toes facing in, looking for a good excuse to dream up.

"Clear the way, Sir! This boy's skin mustn't be touched by anyone not yet vaccinated." The deep bellowed voice held a command that captures the older gentleman's attention immediately. The tall, blonde haired pale young man with a golden moustache, donning a cap and uniform of a commanding officer in the Norwegian navy, owned all the confident airs of an urbane, self-possessed gentleman.

The man who was an old soldier at heart yet, stands his bent over back up straight to salute this far more convincing male presence.

"As you were." Elsa, yes, our elegantly graceful poised and aesthetically feminine fetching Queen of Arendelle—was posing as a lower timbred, well polished authoritatively impressive at her five foot ten inch height male naval officer.

And doing a fine darn good job of it, too.

Her calm, inner reserve and great powers of observation served her acting skills well today. Her long flowing hair was knotted beneath her naval hat's disguise.

"Come, boy. The ship is awaiting your immediate voyage." Elsa assuredly salutes back to the harbor man before leading 'boy' Rapunzel away by the elbow towards the dock where several ships were preparing for early morning departure.

Pascal sticks his tongue out at the nasty man who sticks his tongue right back as they walk away.

"That was absolutely amazing, Elsa! And here I thought I'd be better at this—knowing a thing or two more about men's behavior, having had one around all the time to study…" A reflectively melancholic Rapunzel trails off in her mumbled accolade for Elsa's compelling performance back there, as the pair of 'ladies' walk towards a certain docked ship with blue, deep red and white flag colors flying—the Saltine and Canton symbol of the royal Norwegian navy.

"Just remember to keep your tone low and even at all times. And take long purposeful strides forward—rather than short, clipped steps when you walk." Though secretly petrified herself of boarding a sea vessel, Elsa helpfully instructs her elder, yet not wiser, cousin under her breath and false moustache.

Rapunzel did her best not to laugh at the tall, beautiful, sophisticated woman now sporting a distinctly male feature such as facial hair. Elsa resembled her father greatly from the portrait Rapunzel had seen in the portrait room of the castle.

She herself attempts to improve her stride in longer steps—a difficult thing to do in the ill-fitting footwear of men's boots she pauses to yank on. They had been stuffed with stockings to add to her short height.

"Let me do all the talking once we get onboard the ship. My father taught me everything there is to know about the Navy. In his youth, he was an officer on board this very ship, after all, and I think I still know someone here."

The girl whose veins once ran cold with ice gazes fondly down at the dark navy blue uniform she was proudly wearing. It had belonged to the most wonderful, most noble, most gallant and valorous man who'd ever lived—and she wished her dear father was still alive right now to tell her if she was doing the correct thing.

_So all I can do is pray._

* * *

><p>"Permission to board the Valborg, for inspection, Ensign?" After giving and receiving a proper salute, Elsa feels nostalgic, for she had last visited this very same ship a long time ago, when she was a small, small girl with her father, the King, who had been awarding medals and commendations in a ceremony for the crewmembers valor in sea battle.<p>

She remembers every little detail of that day—from that serious expression on the Kommander's face which turned a kind eye to smile at the young girl and tickle her chin, as her father, looking handsome and regal in his own Lieutenant Colonel Oberst garb commended the Kommander/Captain's service and loyalty to the Crown.

Though she was very young then, Elsa could still see the naval seamen all standing at attention, down to each Loytnant (Lieutenant) or Fenric (Ensign), looking with eager eyes as her dignified parent waved the holy scepter of St. Olaf over the Captain and his vessel in blessing and symbolism of their nation's dominion over the seas the ship sailed upon.

"Permission granted, Sir!" Though confused about the inspection date being ahead of schedule—strange too, just on the verge of the ship's deployment—the new recruit was intelligent enough to recognize a commanding officer by his uniform's markings and the multitudes of bars and stripes adorning Elsa's jacket, earned respect enough not to be questioned.

"As you were." Elsa's deepened voice and distinguished attitude instilled confidence to whomever she spoke. Each lower ranked officer gave her deference until she is led to the Captain's planning room, near the bridge of the vessel. She motions for Rapunzel to remain outside the bridge's helm, while she enters with a salute at the man inside.

"Kommander Rustung, I know you to be a man of many heroic credential and great consideration from your many years of valued and loyal service to the Crown of Arendelle." Elsa begins her speech before the experience Kommander of the ship could pose a question.

"I thank you…Colonel…for your kind commendations. Although, I am afraid I do not quite recognize your face, though the uniform is strangely befuddling to me." The elder Captain was carefully considering sounding the alarm, for he, as personal friend and former Captain/Kommander of the only officer ranked Lieutenant Colonel, just below his office ever decorated for all three citations of valor above and beyond the call of duty, knew that honorable man to be dead.

"Then, Kommander, I am to rely solely and entirely on your great discretion and willing silence, as I ask you to embark on a special mission." Securing they were all alone, she looks him directly in the eye, still seeing that light of innate kindness aglow there, that told her he was a trustworthy good man still.

With those enigmatic words, Elsa turns around, carefully removing the false moustache, along with the hat which was confining her mass of blonde hair in a tight bun that she releases as she turns around to face Kommander Rustung.

"My Queen…!" The reverent officer bows his head deeply to his Sovereign and she smiles at his expected, dutiful response.

She then lifts his sweet, old chin with a familiar hand.

"I still remember when you did just the same to me, when I was a little girl." Elsa bites back the good childhood memory emotion on her starkly, unmade up and naturally beautiful facial features—especially dazzling when she smiled.

"But… I don't understand? Why all this?" The bewildered captain of the schooner class Valborg queries the girl as she recoils her hair back into a tight bun.

"I don't expect you to understand, because I don't even fully comprehend it. It's all too complicated to explain what must be done—right now. But it must be done in secret." Elsa looks to the gentle man, who had proven to be her father's truest and dearest friend. "I'm just asking you, as a great favor to me, to help me locate a man. Please."

"And who might that man be, my Queen?" Kommander Rustung asks, as Elsa finishes replacing her hat atop her head—her beautiful blond hair hidden once more.

"A good man—like yourself, Sir. A good man who has lost his way, trying to protect the one he loves." Elsa gazes from the ship bridge's wide window to the calm, calm blue sea outside.

Something that glistened there caught her interested eye.

"In that case," he pauses, gazing at the girl in his office with a sight he never thought he'd ever see, standing before him in uniform, looks her up and down critically concerned, then shrugs his dutiful shoulders with his decision.

"I am at your service, Sir."

The Captain salutes his ruler and her pure of heart motives.

"Just as I served with your noble father before you, without a second thought, I would take you to the ends of the earth if you wished it."

"Thank you, my dear Kommander Rustung. Let's hope this journey doesn't prove to be that far-reaching." Elsa smiles a bit wistfull hopeful up at him. "And Kommander,"

"Yes, Queen Elsa?"

"My true identity is to be concealed from the crew…for the time being." She reattaches her 'man making' moustache beneath her nose. "No one must find out I am involved in this endeavor, or all could be lost."

Feeling the great weight of leaving her home country, the Kingdom she and Anna had lived in such a sheltered life, for the first time leaving its shores to travel into the great unknown…

* * *

><p>That 'something' that glistened on the rolling wave of the peaceful sea that disturbed Elsa earlier was so rocked to sleep by the gentle tides that he was snoring.<p>

And nothing was worse than a snowman's snore, for all the air expelled around his mouth turned into ice fractals shimmering in the sun like diamonds that might perchance to pierce and pop the new innovation of a rubber raft he was snoring upon.

Snowman plus warm ocean water, without a raft betwixt, was never a good idea.

But brainless Olaf was not widely known for entertaining good ideas.

* * *

><p>"Well? What did he say?!" Almost tripping in her oversized boots, Rapunzel quickly skirts away from uselessly eavesdropping at the door of the bridge, anxious to hear how Elsa had fared in convincing the schooner's Captain to take the pair along in search of her missing husband.<p>

"Kommander Rustung is a dear, dear old friend." Amidst scanning the waters in the distant east, as they leave the fjord to enter the Skagerrak strait, Elsa smiles encouragingly to Rapunzel, who appeared to be a bit green around the gills already as she suddenly clutches her dizzy head.

"Are you all right?" Elsa asks, concerned, though her mind was being pulled elsewhere in this moment.

"Yeah, oh sorry…Must be a little seasick again. Had it bad on the way here from Corona. Eugene laughed at me at first, but then he was so nice—so warm." Rapunzel fights back both mal la de mer and her own aching torment of being apart from her true love when he was most certainly in peril but it wouldn't become the tough 'boy' she was portraying, to start weeping. Pascal's colors change from pink to puke green on her shoulder in sympathy.

"We're on our way to find him. Just wait right here. Someone needs a wake up call, first." Elsa squeezes Rapunzel's shoulder as she sits her down on a deck bench before weaving between many rushing men on deck, aft and starboard, as she moves to the far end of the craft. All sailors were on hand to ready the vessel to leave the fjord for the strait.

Each man was performing his duty on the newly remodeled, three-mast schooner's deck as they raise the top sail and the gafferigged bowsprit high into the cloudless blue sky with the nation's history of proud naval precision behind them.

Whilst everyone's attention was on getting the ship in shape and Bristol fashioned for its departure, Lieutenant Colonel Elsa finds a rare, quiet spot near the ramp behind some wooden crates beside the life boats where she kneels down, removing one Navy issue white glove of her father's uniform.

_**Zzssht**_

A silent, delicate webbing of ice forms into a net that she expertly manages, with cryogenic powers now at her trained command, to wrap around the occupant of the colorful raft, fortunately yet unseen, in the Valborg sailors' hectic work at the ship's riggings, to scoop him up, just moments before the tiny raft is sucked into the surging pull of the powerful vessel's deadly spinning back steel rotors.

"Huh? What? HEY! What happened to my—?!" Elsa slaps a quick ice muzzle over Olaf's loud mouth as he is rudely awakened, nearly napping through his choppy trip to the Big Sleep.

"Shhhh—! Olaf! Speak more quietly, please." Elsa whispers fiercely, in warning, to the disoriented snowman, swinging in mid air above the crashing waves as her ice magic delivers him over the ship's railing via her frozen net, surrounding his rounded body to land into her reaching arms.

"I love warm hugs!" Olaf happily murmurs into her chest, indulging in the embrace as Elsa hugs the frosty little friend in relieved greeting.

"Olaf, you have to be more careful on your raft. If you float out this far, the ship's engines can pull you in and—" Elsa's cautionary words are hammered home solidly as both she and snowman gaze over the Valborg's rail to see his multi-colored raft and all its creature comforts on board (thankfully, minus one silly snowman) are sucked under its rapidly revolving, back rotor wheel, leaving only a trail of shredded pieces and painted scraps in its wake.

"My new raft…! That was my best birthday present…" Pitiable Olaf stifles a regretful sniffle as his cocktail glass bobs to the water's surface listlessly empty.


	7. Chapter 6 - Ships That Pass in the Night

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 6**

"**Ships That Pass in the Night"**

As Hans Westergaard emerges from the prisoner's brig kept in the pirate ship's lower bilge decks, he gazes around the kitchen gallery and the tiny connecting area with a single bunk style of bed and simple basic living accommodations he'd been subjected to for the past two years—since his brothers practically sold him as a slave to the highest bidder.

This unpalatable situation reminded him much of the Biblical Old Testament story of Joseph and his clan of jealous brothers who banished their younger sibling into slavery bondage, as Hans was taught in church Sunday school when he was small.

_Ah…why didn't I keep to the lessons I learned then? I was given every opportunity to be a righteous and moral, better man._

Hans remorsefully reflects on the torrid turns and bitter bumps his wicked heart had taken him on. It was a cold and calculating road, as far away from his childhood's church teachings as the Good News of their moral Scriptures he was drilled in as a rebellious young boy could be.

At night, this was always repeating in the dank darkness in the back of his contrite mind. Sometimes only those ethical precious parables that the adult man had rejected in his wanton pursuit of self-worth and ruthless greed, fueled by power hunger, still existed.

_So I hardly can compare my story to Joseph's, besides the fact that I have **twelve** older brothers, not ten and one younger. I'm the unlucky number thirteen. Joseph was always a good man, despite his distressed circumstances. I was exactly the opposite—and just too much of a liar to admit it to myself before…_

Hans hears that Flynn Rider's words from just before as well. Something about the Captain's new prisoner interested him greatly. He couldn't explain exactly why, but he wanted to know more about him.

_Perhaps because he was clever enough to be a worthy match._

"Look at me. Still thinking I'm clever." Hans chuckles to himself, as he stares into the small mirror hung on fishing hooks over the wash basin he used for shaving, primarily. (Even an indentured servant must be clean-shaved and fit to the see the Queen.)

One impermeable virtue, and perhaps a touch of vanity for his good looks, was still ingrained in the oft-dejected young man's brain.

He examines the slight bruising on the side of his head's cranium and upper cheekbone from the earlier scuffle, and dismisses the light injury, brushing a hand over his mussed and askew hair.

For some reason, in the looking glass, you could see more of the truth about yourself than you could normally see in everyday life.

Hans notes in the reflection his once pristine, white hands—always kept safe beneath unburdened leather gloves—were now worn and tanned, with rough calluses from nonstop physical labor.

Yet somehow he didn't find the hard work so abhorrent anymore, as he first did. And from that fight with the physically fit thief, he serendipitously just discovered that these two years' worth of harsh tasks gave industry to his now strengthened hands that had previously known only hunting and fencing and fishing and the like, for gentleman's sport—all soft and effeminate.

But now, he realized, he could survive without such menial trifling activities, nor servants, nor luxuries—from swabbing the decks, to rinsing the laundry and cooking, of course, to every other mundane domestic task that his spoiled, haughty youth would have never before deemed worthy. He had even learned to rig a ship's mast, weigh anchor and hoist sails when an extra hand was required. All this now made a man out of this mollycoddled 'baby' of the family in small ways that he didn't even recognize with his head to the proverbial plow practically all day and all night aboard this aging ship in servitude of the aging Captain and his 'crew' of just one other able-bodied man—a patient man, suitably named 'Job' to take up the slack.

And though his twelve brothers meant this sort of harsh life as punishment, perhaps in the end, Hans would see—just like Joseph after all—that it was all meant for his good, as God's Hand often worked in mysterious ways, placing the right star in the correct heavens at the right time.

* * *

><p>The stars were indeed aligning as the modern three-masted Naval warship, Valborg's crow's nest lookout spots the ship that fit Elsa's description of the craft she was searching for, as it pulls into the same dock for supplies.<p>

Elsa and Rapunzel and their two companion stowaways, disembark from the Valborg alone, although Kommander Rustung highly voiced his concerns. Elsa was quite certain in her authority, afterwards embracing the older gentleman with a surprise kiss to his cheek as the 'Pearl Lady' docks for its supplies at a port on the mid-Norwegian coastline.

Elsa had insisted Kommander Rustung hold back his vessel from overtaking the smaller, older craft, and to break off the search once she and her friend secured passage onboard.

_By hook or by crook_—or so the saying goes—and Elsa was not quite sure which of these foreboding choice terms she preferred.

"Where's your father's uniform?" Rapunzel whispers in the darkness from beneath her too-long dark hooded cloak as a similarly turned charcoal black Pascal rummages about to find a comfortable nook in the cloak's deep pocketed folds.

"I asked Kommander Rustung to take good care of it." Elsa whispers in the pitch black darkness that she and Rapunzel were both ensconced in.

The stately, tall, beautiful blonde was now wearing a tight black shirt and borrowed tight black pants from the Valborg's vast uniform supplies. Elsa's slinky dark choice originated from the underwater diving section of the clothing department, meant to fit beneath heavy diving gear.

But who would argue with this scintillating Queen in black?

"How are we going to get onboard?" Rapunzel asks, as she watches Elsa finish tying up her hair in a black cap, impressed at how quick change an artist her tall cousin was proving to be. Elsa slinks in the shadows to the pirate ship's edge and back again with her report.

"The ship's getting ready to leave." She says.

"Do you really think Eugene's in there?" The worried wife bites her lip, fearful of what might have befallen her kidnapped love.

"Of course Eugene's in there!" Olaf whispers with enthusiasm. "Who's 'Eugene?'" Fitted out with a black cape and black hood, with cut-out eyeholes of his own, Commando Olaf was a dark sight to see. His pure blizzard white body was deemed too stark against the moonless night that it might be seen. So a quick costume was created for his peculiar sized, two-humps plus head body, by a girl who grew up sewing clothing fashions for strange-bodied little friends in her spare time. Rapunzel had become an expert seamstress whilst waiting for her life to begin.

And right now, her life has taken off in dramatic ways she'd never envisioned.

_Oh, Eugene! Please be okay, okay?!_

Rapunzel takes a deep breath to quell the worry in her queasy stomach as she looks to strong leader Elsa to show them the way to save him.

"Right, this is it." Elsa's cat like eyes had adjusted to the night's dark clouded summer moon above the ship—enough for her to make out the towering, tall form of a dark, well-built man emerge from the lower plank of the Pearl Lady.

Job climbs down the wooden plank he'd just lowered to the dock with large empty casks, flagons and jugs roped around his sturdy shoulders and neck, to be refilled with some certain brand of liquor or 'moonshine' to the Captain's liking.

"We don't know how long that man will be, so we must quickly sneak on board and conceal ourselves somewhere on the ship below deck, where we won't be noticed, so we can begin our search surreptitiously. Silence is life or death here. Olaf, can we trust you to keep quiet at all times, so as not to reveal our whereabouts?" Elsa turns to the weakest link on the talkative chain.

Olaf's two black as coal eyes blink before his branch hands shove themselves up under his hood. The two girls hear the tinkling sounds of an icy zipper now coating his soundless lips.

"I didn't know he could do that." Rapunzel whispers in the pier's still darkness.

"Neither did I." Elsa doesn't waste another thought on Olaf's interesting new aspect for now. Right now, she had other fish to fry. "Follow me." Words thrown over her elegant shoulder, Arendelle's Queen picks up the snowman in black and races like a sleek black panther across the empty docks.

"Okay, I can do that. I think…Eugene could…Come on, Rapunzel!" Rapunzel takes a deep breath and copies her swift as the wind cousin, dashing in and out of the shadows of various structures and posts that were lining the pier, like a frantic gazelle until she too reaches her destination—the dark and foreboding mouth of the pirate ship.

She pauses before its menacing yaw a second before blindly thrusting all of herself—hopes, fears, doubts and faith—into the unknown fearful belly of the proverbial beast with a courage only spawned from her great love.

* * *

><p>In the darkness of the pirate ship's prison hold, a man was hard at work trying to utilize a useless fork. Its clinking sounds of scratching at hard metal were drowned out by the vessel's sounds as it lurches back to life from its short stop at some dock.<p>

"No, no, no, no…! I'm missing my chance!" He furiously twists and spins the already bent fork, poking at his own wrist more than at the uncooperative tumblers. But inside his head, he already knew it was too late to make an escape. The ship was already on its way.

He stops.

"I am really losing my touch." Flynn Rider had, from years of finely honed skills of thievery, trained his left hand to be just as useful as his right, being able to open doors and grab small objects, to picking locks.

_So why is this particular handcuff being so darn persnickety?_

He sighs, slamming back his trapped right hand, still linked to the iron cage bars, in anger.

"That felt good." After a seething fit, Flynn pauses to collect his cool. He gazes down at his still captive, and now painful, right hand sourly. His wrist was raw from the constant pulling and tugging from trying to wriggle out of it. But it was useless.

"This should've been a piece of cake! Come on, lefty! Do your magic finger thing! Stupid hand!" He berates his inadequate appendage, studying its ineffective fingers distraughtly with a frustrated sigh. "Stupid! Stupid…" That exhausted hand rubs his stubbled chin, as was his habit, in an attempt to get his brain's motor started.

However, another piece of metal bound around his fourth left finger, that as bad luck would have it, scrapes against his already bruised jawbone from his hand-to-hand metal bar smashing combat with that guy before.

_I can't believe I was beat by that dandy fop!_

"Ouch! That felt good, too…" Flynn sizzles his breath at the extra pain that the ridges of his wedding band caused as his left hand moved across his battered chin.

Staring at the ring encircling his left fourth ring finger, Flynn lifts his hand in the dim lighting from where he was sitting plopped on the scratchy wooden floor of his prison, his right hand still strung up.

"Rapunzel…Let down your hair…" Flynn Rider, out of options, out of energy, out of luck, allows his distracted mind to reminisce, recalling that tower, that witch, that mirror and his adorable little lady lovely locks, who was willing to sacrifice her freedom to give him his. He lets his pathetic head fall back against the cold bars.

"I don't have any left. Sorry…!"

Was he dreaming? Of course, he had to be hallucinating.

"That's okay, Blondie. Just wanted to say your name aloud, 'cause I miss you badly." He murmurs a smiling answer to his illusionary companion. His eyes were still closed as his head was raised to the ceiling.

"Oh, Eugene! I'm so glad to hear you say that! I'm so glad you were kidnapped and didn't run away from me! I've missed you, too!" But Rapunzel's snaking in arms through the bars, around his shocked neck in a choking embrace was disturbingly real.

Flynn's poor yanked back down body and head, snap around so fast he could've gotten whiplash.

"Rapunzel! What are you doing here?!" He voice reduces furtively, though increasing in frantic state.

"It's me!" She sings out, perky and exuberant, lifting her eye sling so he would recognize her. "We came to save you!" She squeals out triumphantly, waving her arms high in the air, then lowering her volume, after her husband's left hand gives her excited yell a tempered lowered hand gesture.

"…we came to rescue you…" She repeats in a whisper, letting her crimson bandanna fall back in place over her big eyes as Pascal emerges from her dark cloak to squeak through the bars and give a weirded-out Flynn a slow motion, two fingered salute, before going to work on his handcuff's lock. The lizard's entire arm actually slipped into the lock's sticking tumblers.

"When you say 'we,' you're not telling me it's just you and frog, right?"

Locksmith Pascal pauses to give his client a dirty look. Flynn's one eyebrow raises in response at his sardonic expression of hoping for more cavalry than that.

"No, not just us!" Rapunzel's sweet giggle fills the dank prison. "We wouldn't have gotten anywhere nears this far-docks and ships and sailing for days-looking for you without—" Rapunzel begins to rapidly explain the incredible journey, she and one other—not counting Olaf and Pascal, that is—had embarked upon, in search of him.

"Let me guess. Elsa." Flynn's eyes look quizzically up at a dark hooded and cloaked Rapunzel through the bars, both serious and guilty. They then look past her, to the other dark woman, all clad in black, just slinking in to the ship's lower bilge deck, to look around pensively first before her true blue eyes alight on him.

_Quite fetchingly, too, Queenie…_

"Eugene." Neither Flynn nor Elsa were willing to speak freely of the royal theft that brought them both to their present situation on this pirate ship at the moment.

Flynn gleaned, from the way Rapunzel was acting, and what the pirate Captain had stated, that Elsa hadn't shared some of her knowledge with his wife, concerning him.

"Are you hurt? Why did they take you? Oh, Eugene! I've been so worried! I thought I lost you!" Rapunzel was on the verge of tears again. The tough little soldier from before had melted into her overwrought emotions within the harbor of his eyes.

Wanting nothing more than to wrap his weepy girl in his arms, Flynn's one free hand reaches through the bars to touch her cheek. She kisses it to her moist lips as she closes her eyes and presses her relieved head to it. Her hood slips down to reveal her nearly entirely chopped off, short cropped hair—her tomboyish disguise.

"Your hair…?" Flynn was utterly surprised that she had cut her already too short prized possession.

Her eyes become sheepish up at him.

"I love it…" He whispers, running his hand's fingers through her diminished locks, when suddenly his hand, as well as his entire body stiffens. The uncanny sixth sense of a master thief kicks in to feel imminent danger drawing near.

"Rapunzel! Hide!" He orders her in a frenetic whisper and pushes her body back. She quickly takes to her feet at his rare, authoritative command to dash around the far corner and dive into the relative safety of a dusty, dark coal hopper.

"I've only found one other route up to the higher decks behind this—" It was just then that Elsa returns from her scouting reconnaissance expedition. Her serious blue eyes grow wide with fear when she returns to the hold to find Rapunzel gone and Flynn waving a panicked, warning hand of someone coming down the main steps.

Now, there would have been just enough time for her as well to find a covert spot to hide amidst the many strewn wooden crate boxes and barrels, especially since she was wearing all black and able to blend in the dark surroundings—had there not been a stumbling block in the way, namely a black clad snowman named Olaf, waddling in his half-blind hoodie-ness, directly to pause in front of the stairwell opening.

He puts a stick hand over his black balaclava covered mouth when he spots Flynn in his cage. The snowman points to him emphatically, waving up and down.

"Psst! Elsa! Psst! Rapunzel! I think I just found Flynn-er Eugene!" A pleased as punch with himself Olaf, talks out of the side of his crooked zippered mouth.

Elsa had left him on 'guard duty' to alert them if anyone was coming into the cargo hold from where they first entered. She had figured it would be the safest place for the less-than-inconspicuous snow creature.

Olaf had wandered down into the prison bilge deck, (actually, rolled down the ramp by accident) to help hunt for the missing man and have the chance to prove himself a courageous hero.

"Olaf!" Elsa proves her own courage when defending her friends as she runs like a madwoman to frantically scoop up Olaf, push him into an empty rum barrel, and pulls the lid on top most of the way before turning to find herself a concealment when—

"Who goes there?" A hand roughly grabs her startled upper arm from behind. Elsa, cool and collected up to this point, was able to hold back her panic—and thusly her powers—but the cold fear of being apprehended by ruthless pirate men gripped her soul. It was almost too much bear.

"Let me go!" She cries out in a shrill voice. The ice shards instantly build at her fingertips, ready to fire a deadly volley directed at the man's heart.

"_Queen Elsa! Don't be the monster they fear you are!" _

She hears his voice, repeating once again, in her provoked mind.

"Go ahead, goodness knows I deserve it." The voice echoing in her head was the same voice as the man standing before her.

Elsa's wild-with-fright eyes were unable to grasp for a moment the ever-spiraling destiny that God used to shape a human existence.

"Prince…Hans…?" Disoriented and dazed, the frozen ice that permeated her every pore longed to lash out against this despised bearer of evil intent upon her country's Crown, with vicious attacks on herself, and most particularly, the attempted breakage of her Anna's golden, pure, warm heart.

"Especially for what I did to you, Queen Elsa." He recognized the singularly beautiful queen despite her disguised appearance as the woman who haunted his dreams as well.

Hans whispers, as his falls to his knees at her feet. His green eyes tremble back at her, not with fear, but with emotion that spoke more of regret and repentance than any word of apology he's tried to put together for the past two soul-tortured years since they'd last met. He boldly takes her icy hand and presses her cool touch to his forehead.

"Please forgive me." His whisper causes Elsa's entire body to shudder as she gasps for breath, unprepared for this encounter with this purveyor of both nightmare and dream.

The brittle ice rimes formed upon each of her long fingers begin to defrost, as the calm reserve she's been honing to control her cryogenic powers comes into play. She gazes down into Hans' openly humble and well-mannered supplication.

Was this cunning, persuasive man playing her like a fiddle, as he did sweet Anna, in the past? Or was the past in the past? No one understood the need for atonement and restitution more than she.

But before either Elsa or Hans could utter another word of forgiveness or judgement, the eerie sounds of _slide, clunk, slide, clunk_ echo from somewhere not too far behind the ramped doorway Hans had just appeared in.

Hans drinks in Elsa's wide lustrous blue eyes as they dart around to the other room, back to Flynn's cautionary hands and then finally back to Hans in panic.

Hans was fully aware of the extent of the Queen's formidable powers, having seen the vehemence of her crystalline prowess first hand. Certainly her massive skills had only increased since then, so why wouldn't she use them to attack the cruel pirate captain with her deadly ice powers?

_Why didn't she use them to kill me just now? Why not take just revenge on me for my past transgressions?_

Hans' sharp mind could not keep up the multiple questions passing though it. He only knew, from the past two years' astute observance of the way this dirty old man of a wicked pirate would react, to find on board in his possession, not only the Arendelle Crown stolen regalia, but now also the royal Queen herself, come to reclaim her nation's treasures. Hans knew what unspeakable things old peg leg Houtebeen would do to this handsome woman, if he knew who she was. Especially if he knew who she was.

_But I don't believe those lovely eyes would ever hurt anyone purposely again. Too bad, for your own sake._

His own alert eyes glimpse not only Captain Houtebeen, but also strong man Job descending the ramp from about, about to converge on them.

In those few moments he had for reflective thought, circulating around his still savvy, intellectual brain, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles takes thoroughly unexpected action into his own observant, capable hands.

Literally.

He shocks awake Elsa's every single sense by suddenly embracing her lithe, slender body, rendering her stunned utterly speechless as his dissembling handsome face moves in to claim Queen Elsa of Arendelle's first kiss.

And it was not just any kiss. After the first few astounded seconds, each participant of the full mouth liplock throws abandon to the wind. Hans purposely messes her coiffed hair as she wraps a wild arm around his neck, as repressed emotion runs the gauntlet between their recklessly impassioned past. Good and bad collides with dreams and nightmares, as all of her ice melts away with the heat rising between them.

"Boy! Vat is de meaning of dis!? How dare ye sneak dis damsel on board!" The blackguard Captain didn't need much explanation for a lonely seaman's basic necessities, but he didn't permit his minions extra dalliance time on his 'well-run' vessel.

He pushes the breathlessly kissing pair apart with his walking stick.

"Oh, do pardon me, Captain, Sir." _huff huff_ "But, my Elsie…was too…_huff huff_...inconvenienced when the Pearl Lady pulled from that last port after we made up our quarrel. She didn't get the chance to disembark quickly enough."

Hans was as manipulating as ever, when it came to applying himself to a necessary lie. The way he had expertly mussed her tresses made his story believable.

The worldly old Captain's suspicious frown at them transforms into a naughty, simpering grin. He never quite took this stuffy, well-mannered chit of a slave for having his way with the ladies.

And never one so tantalizing as this tall beauty, all clad in black, delectable to this pirate's roving roguish eye.

Putting on his most charming smile, Captain Houtebeen carefully balances himself on one peg leg as he reaches one admiring, grubby, knotted old hand out to tactile touch the beauteous pale maiden. He hadn't glimpsed one so fine, so close up in such a long time…

Just as he expected, Hans could see what was about to happen. He weighed in his calculating mind the consequences if he were to gallantly intercede—

_**WHACK!**_

Hans is flabbergasted by quick Elsa's fierce slapping hand, connecting violently with _his_ surprised cheek, rather than striking the odious Captain to fend off any unwanted attentions.

"Ohh! She's a sprightly one! Ha ha! Ye'll have yer hands busy wit dis lively lass, me boy. Me reckons ye could use yer little bit o' spirit to put some vigor in those pallid cheeks, ye rakish roustabout! Ha ha! Ye're such a hard workin' lad and good cook. Yer Captain can see his way to givin' ye a scullery maid for de galley…and a bit of fluff on de side for ye, poor lad. Dis lovely lady will work off her fare for passage on board de ship for whatever services we require, ye smarmy bilge rat! Take her down to the galley and put her sassy hands to the washing up. Just don't let it affect yer cookin' for me or we'll toss yer pretty guttersnipe overboard, ye hear me? And don't ye say to any sailor, Cap'n Houtebeen ain't been kind to his crew! Har har ha!"

After a blinking second to absorb all that just happened and marvel at what Elsa had ingeniously achieved, Hans Westergaard, master manipulator, had been upped one by a Queen. Hans touches an astounded hand to his long-fingered impressioned red cheek as the chuckling, maniacal Captain pushes his way between the reticent shocked pair of reunited 'lovers'.

Hans had to give Elsa some extra credit for managing that situation even more than even he envisioned.

Elsa, for her part, was both part exhilarated from the successful con, and part mortified at her own out-of-control unleashed passions in that impromptu kiss she just shared with that insipid man who would now add his exciting kiss to her nightly dreams as well.

_Anyway…_

A flustered Elsa gives the self-possessed man, who had been studying her confused face, a deer in the headlights look, before turning to follow the old pirate back into the prison bilge area, where he was headed to speak with Flynn.

She was afraid Rapunzel would get caught on her own.

"Captain said you two belong in the galley. Not here. So GO!" Job's deep voice bellows as he comes out of nowhere—as he always did, unheard and unseen, from the edges of darkness to ensure Captain Houtebeen's orders were carried out.

Though protective Elsa was unwilling, Hans understood that Job's words shouldn't be questioned, if you were wise, as he gives the young woman before him a faint smile and a tug on her elegant arm to lead her up the ramp into the nearby pleasurable, pungent world he's been enslaved to—his deep, dark, dank kitchen.

"Please sit down. I'll make you something to eat." He politely offers as they enter the galley. Elsa gazes down incredulously at the squalid living conditions this haughty, high-class prince had been enduring. Her eyes land upon him in a newly awakening light.

"Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." He says in an even tone, as he cracks a few eggs into a sizzling frying pan.


	8. Chapter 7 - Hidden Treasures

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 7**

"**Hidden Treasures"**

"Soo…to what do I owe this pleasant visit from the big man himself to my humble abode?" Flynn Rider drawls in his off-hand style, in part not to give away his hidden wife's whereabouts and cover it in a blustery bluff, and in pat not to reveal the fact that handy dandy Pascal had accomplished his nimble toed task of unlocking Flynn's handcuff just a mere moment before he was stashed under the teapot dome.

"Ve have set a course for our next destination, Meester Rider. And Captain Houtebeen wishes to discuss our new arrangement." Speaking in the third person again, the peg legged Captain struggles to take a seat opposite Flynn, inside the cage once Job had multi keyed open the multiple deadlocks on the cell door for the Captain to enter.

He props his aching old wooden appendage upon the food strewn table that Hans had 'set' for Flynn earlier.

"My, my! Aren't ve a messy eater? Are you not an enthusiast of ze fine potato dishes my cabin boy's culinary creations?" Houtebeen had no idea of the confrontation that had ensued before between Flynn and Hans, as his one eye surveys the large amount of egg and hash brown potatoes wasted on the filthy, dirty ground—cracked plate and all.

"It seems your 'cabin boy' has a good eye for all kinds of 'dishes,' if you know what I mean." Flynn insinuatingly comments. He, even from the dusky distance, could still make out that man and Elsa's silhouettes locked in a passionate kiss, and then the Captain's order for her to be taken away by the younger man.

The little bit of chivalry that resided in Flynn Rider was anxious for the tall blonde's feminine safety at the mercy of that underhanded, slick customer.

_I don't trust that guy…He's got too snazzy a hairdo._

Flynn was more than skeptical of relying on the virtues of that sly cabin boy with excellent sideburns.

But there was nothing he could do about it right now — after all, his hands were tied.

_Ha ha…that's a joke. I'm a funny guy._

He longed to flex his already freed wrist, but the farce had to be maintained for the time being. Flynn expertly covers up the cracked open end of the cuff around his right wrist with wavering digits in sleight of hand disguise.

"Har har har…Agreed, ye blackguard! His lass is a 'dish' at zat! Har har—now to business." The joviality of the elderly Dutchman abruptly turns serious. He squints his singular eye at Flynn in scrutiny.

"I've deciphered ze map ye've brought to me, so now I be knowin' ze location of ze treasure. But when ve arrive zere, the map seems to be indicatin' zat ze'll be a locked door or holding vessel, or somezing requiring a key to be opened, prior to finding ze treasure — as seen here and here." The usually dour Captain appeared to be abnormally excitable—almost gleeful as he deems to reveal to Flynn a section of the map sketch he'd plotted and drawn markings on, representing some type of underground catacomb he'd gleaned from the marble stone.

Flynn looks to the part of the map that Houtebeen's bent, gnarly finger was pointing at. Beyond a slew of indecipherable numbers, up top amid ancient rune letters that Flynn couldn't read at all, the map was pretty straightforward. Stairwells, subfloors, secret passages, whose symbols were all leading to gravestone markers where 'x' marked the spot—

"Wait, gravestones? I'm a respectable thief. Not a graverobber. I do jewelry and gold thingys. Digging up old bones and decayed bodies just doesn't go with my stunning complexion." Flynn uses his one free hand to vainly brush back his still stunning hair coiffure.

"Enough of yer bloody, bilgeous foolishness, Rider! Houtebeen still has yer favorite in-laws in his crosshairs—ye mark me words. Yer beloved king and queen and yer fancy Corona Castle best be watchin' zere sainted backs for ze rest of zere lives if ye wrong me again. And don't ye be thinkin' zat gone soft as a squashed open sponge Hookhand and his motley crew of worthless, washed out flop pirates ye've befriended will make a scrap of difference to ze great Houtebeen! Corona's king and queen are marked if ye don't do exactly as I be wishin' now." Never one to suffer fools, the Captain pokes his walking stick into Flynn's chest.

"Ohh!" A smothered gasp escapes the coat shoot not so far away.

"Vat be zat?! Job!" The pirate captain's old ears prick up and he cries out for his first mate to come and investigate the area.

"That was me, Captain! Sorry about that slip of the tongue! But I've been known to throw my voice around the room, you know, thieves' tricks of the trade." Flynn's panic for his wife's unhappy discovery was none too evident in his smarmy voice as it rattles off.

"In a woman's shrill voice, ye blackguard?" Houtebeen's one eye slits at Flynn in skepticism.

"Yeah, well, if I'm feeling really stressed, sometimes I tap into my feminine side! Ohhh!" Flynn's quickening voice does indeed rise to the high-pitched level of a squeaky female that entire sentence, finishing it up with a quite convincing 'Ohh!" mimicked to girlish perfection and thrown across the room, before the Captain's dubious eye, followed, of course, by a Flynn-esque slick smile.

"Ye'll be squealin' like a little girl if ye don't follow my orders, Flynn Rider! Job!" The gravelly throated Captain dismisses the effeminate antics of the master thief as long as he had Flynn's submission and fear under his dirty old thumb. "Get me away from zis lunatic freak! He makes me head to ache!" The old man's beckon comes just in time, as Job was about to uncover the coal shed's blocking lid…

"Yes, Cap'n." Good thing the dark man was instantaneously obedient. He turns on his big heel, mid hand opening the lid, and just drops it again.

"Whew!" Flynn could breathe again after holding his breath so long in nail-biting trepidation with each step Job took towards Rapunzel's hiding spot, his eye was trained upon. Flynn exhales in relief as the dark man moves away from her secret cove.

"But maybe I'll be havin' a cup of me cabin boy's excellent tea first, before I leave. Houtebeen be a-thirsty." Captain Houtebeen's anger is quelled by the pleasing scents of Hans' cooking and familiar golden teapot placed invitingly upon the 'table.'

Job quickly enters the cell to pour some brew for his boss.

"Noooo! I mean, I already drank it all. Pirate ships sure give me a powerful thirst." A swallowing hard Flynn now attempts to halt Pascal's discovery while the chameleon was now cowering under a teacup as Job flips it over to pour some hot, scalding tea for his captain's pleasure.

_Cough cough Choke Cough!_

As Pascal's skin goes all porcelain white to meld with the inside bottom of the China teacup he was clinging to, just as Job was about to pour tea into it, Flynn begins to cough and choke until he was nearly convulsing across the table, where he knocks the cup, quite by 'accident' right out of Job's unsuspecting hand. It's sent skittering across the floor.

"Steady zere, lad." Captain Houtebeen gives Flynn's choking back a harsh whack.

"Argh!" Flynn doubles over at the punishing smack from the pirate's 'helpful' cane.

"Don't wallow in the shallows yet, matey. Ye've the greatest treasure yet to pilfer for me before yer journey's over." And with that, after firmly locking all the locks on the cell door again, Captain Houtebeen and Job depart, leaving an aching, bruised back now to add to his part frostbitten arm, to poor Flynn's infirmities.

"Oh gee, thanks for the save…" Flynn murmurs in his highest feminine voice as he rubs his painful back and falls to the floor with excruciating pain.

"Eugene!" After a lengthy pause to ensure both pirates were safely out of earshot range, Rapunzel comes popping out of the dusty coal bin she'd been hiding within and barrels across the bilge deck towards her injured love.

"Eugene! Oh, Eugene! How could I ever have doubted you?!" The remorseful girl feels so very guilty for her months of distrust eating away at their relationship. She flies like the wind to his hurt-in-shielding-her-presence side. But there were too many cold bars of iron locked shut between them.

She reaches her hands through the cell bars to touch him at least, hold him like a child, rub his injured back and then caress his wincing in pain face in both palms.

Tears stream down her blackened with soot cheeks, creating tear streaks down her wobbling jawline.

"I wouldn't blame you, Blondie, if you did…Argh…I've kind of been doubting myself lately. Zzzsttt!" Flynn 'sizzles' at the pain through clenched teeth, as Rapunzel continues her tender ministrations on his back.

"I'm so sorry, Eugene! I should've realized you were only being so distant for my own good—for my parents' own good. I should've believed in you more. I'm a terrib;e wife!" The pent up tears of relief and joy at finding his motives for their relationship's rift were exemplary in his caring. Plus, the sympathy for his painful wounds that she herself and her loud mouth was at fault for causing, brings Rapunzel to her knees, hugging Flynn to her through the iron bars.

"I love you, Eugene…" She whispers the truth of her soul. Her fierce embrace unfortunately squeezed at his stinging, frostbitten upper arm muscles. His face once again cringes, causing her to worry again.

"And I…love you…my Rapunzel." He smiles away her fears, as his face lifts to meet her gaze, with that ever present smirked, naughty look on his good-looking chiseled chin face.

"Oh, Eugene! I was so scared." She whispers, tears forming in her eyes as Flynn uses all his might to sit up and move his face closer to hers, with only the bars between them.

"Shhh….shhh, Blondie. I'm here." Eugene's voice loses all the bravado to give his girl all the tenderness of his heart, as he reaches his one free hand through the bars to stroke her sooty, wet cheek dry with a smile.

He then starts to fondle her hair, finding the nearly shoulder length brown locks were reduced to being feathery short.

"I thought cutting your hair was my job." Caressing her through the bars into a nuzzle, Flynn was trying to lighten the situation that looked pretty darn bleak in actuality about now. He had absolutely no idea on how to get her, and Elsa for that matter, off this dingy old tugboat in one piece.

_Never mind me, Blondie, I'm a lost cause._

"Eugene," Rapunzel recalls all that happened on that fateful day, what seemed forever ago, when her guy was so selfless that he even cut off the healing power of her hair before allowing her to lose her newfound freedom to save him—all out of love.

"You're still my dream, too."

She presses her face to the cell bars and whispers before her tongue engages his lips so close at the other side of the bars she could feel his hot breath mix with hers. The pair of reconciled, passionate lovers find some solace in one another's stabilizing 'kiss' amidst the churning seabound craft's darkness.

"Now, I've got an added incentive to open the locks in this cage. Pronto…" He whispers mischievously, seductively in her ear that he had managed to chew loosely upon before showing off like a strongman to break apart the handcuffs that Pascal had freed him from earlier. He sits back and runs his hands beneath his black suit, searching around his muscular form's secret places as his thin fingers whip out a thin wire—

Namely, a lock pick tool of a professional thief, tucked near the safety of unmentionable places.

A hungry Rapunzel smiles at her smooth operator's moves, as his deft fingers begin to spin their craft.

"Please, hurry!" Rapunzel kneels back on her haunches, elbows up, hugging her knees to her, hands balancing her interested cheeks as she rocks back and forth to witness her 'brilliant' Eugene begin to pick each one of the locks—one by one—with an urgent enthusiasm she hadn't glimpsed in him in a long time.

"I'll, _uh_…be…right…_Yes!..._with…you…_No_…Well, maybe not yet…" Flynn's gyrations as he industriously applies himself to the lock jimmying task were quite comical. Rapunzel was pleased anyway to see him be so…himself again, and she giggles.

"So you think I'm funny, Blondie?" Flynn, his pride at his thieving skills being doubted, was wounded by his little wife's laughter on his magic fingers' failures, and he steals an upward glance at her with a snickered, incredulous glare without moving his head.

"No, I think you're wonderful." She patiently sits back as Pascal, shaking himself conscious again in a pink shade, and hobbles over to aid Flynn in his multiple, difficult, old rusted lock picking from inside the cell cage.

"And I think you're adorable in that new hairdo. It'll be all the rage someday — you just mark my words." His snigger melts with her giggles, as ever together, they cope with the suspenseful tension closing in around them as the vessel cuts a specific track forward amidst the surging waters…

* * *

><p>Tension was an understatement to describe the atmosphere setting in the ship's galley, on the deck just above the bilges.<p>

Beyond the sizzling and clanging of pans frying meats and potatoes, there weren't many other sounds passing the still air between the two lone occupants of the kitchen.

Elsa was uncomfortable to say the least. She sits primly at the table, her hands folded as she tries to reason out everything that had just happened to her. Calm and collected, she holds her own counsel.

But each time she glances at his back busy cooking at the stove, she touches her pursed lips, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, and her mind draws a blank.

_Why did he kiss me? Just to escape the pirate's wrath? No one's ever dared touch me like that before. And he knows the danger of my powers…my powers…Please Good Lord, let me be able to control them this time._

Elsa silently prays, as being trapped alone with the man she feared most on earth was coupled with her integral fright of ocean travel—for it was the sea that had claimed her beloved parents from her.

It was all becoming too much for her emotional control now at the limit. And to top it all off, Elsa knew not what to do to rescue both national holy treasures — and Cousin Eugene as well — now that she was actually here and face to face with the danger.

_What kind of leader am I for my kingdom? And there's no one left I can consult for counsel. Papa, it's now I need your guidance most…_

"Queen Elsa? Why are you trembling?"

Elsa didn't realize in her quiet contemplation of introspective dread, she had involuntarily begun shivering. Each lonely fear she concealed inside with detached isolation laid a shard of ice across her already heavy heart.

Lost in her own thoughts, Elsa is more startled that his warm hand, placed compassionately upon her shoulder, was not instantly repelled by her own raw instinct as she would have conjectured their reunion would have been.

As she looks up at him, her trepidatious eyes upset him greater than he'd care to admit. Hans quickly removes his hand from her person guiltily and swallows hard as he looks down at the spiced potatoes he had been sautéing in the frying pan in his hand, feeling equally as blistered by her disquieting perturbation directed up at him.

"Do I frighten you still, Elsa?" Hans asks in an unusually small voice. His gaze was down and he occupies himself with serving out the prepared food onto her plate.

"I—I don't know…" Elsa surprises herself by answering him in all honesty.

"Hmm…" Hans smiles inwardly as he returns the frying pan to the counter stove and returns to pour her a cup of hot coffee. "This should warm you up." As he looks at her, Hans' pale green eyes seemed to be trying to assess the quiet, pale woman's bent of mind towards him.

_It couldn't be benevolent. It shouldn't be kind. You should hate me. But you don't look like you despise me…you didn't __**kiss**__ like you despised me. Maybe because your eyes are too beautiful to despise anyone…_

His eyes trace hers.

"Thank you for that." Is all Hans actually says, with a bowed head in gratitude towards her.

"For what?" Elsa asks, puzzled by the urbane man's mannerly statement to her.

"Being honest. As you know from personal experience, truth is a hard commodity for me. And they say a person admires most what he himself is lacking." Hans modestly capitulates his own failings with a sad smile on his lips, as he stares at his callused hands blindly.

"They also say a person can better himself in the search for that which he is lacking." She looks across the table to say. "If his heart was sincerely reaching for it, God will provide an answer."

Elsa hears echoes of her own questioning soul, as it stood almost two years ago, when the storm that raged inside her was yet fresh on the eaves.

And then Anna's endless faith and relentless forgiveness gave her heart hope for the warmth of love to grant her heart peace.

_Maybe we just need that one person to believe in us…_

"It's funny—that's what Sister Bernard told me in the parish school when I was ten years old. Strange what you remember vividly." He muses reflectively.

"Your heart's a peace now, Queen Elsa. I'm glad of it. In fact, I envy you." Hans meets her eyes with a resigned smile.

"How's Anna?" Hans was really treading on dangerous iceberg entrenched waters here. But by now, Elsa's edginess was washed away by the young man's surprising sedate demeanor.

"She and Kristoff were just married. She's very happy and in love, and very lucky to have him as her friend." Elsa takes a sip of her coffee. It indeed warmed her cold insides as she was a bit proud in relating that particular piece of good news to the man who once aspired to marry her sweet little sister.

"Happy and in love with her best friend. Sounds idyllic, like a song from a storybook fairytale." Hans was envious, but not in the way Elsa could have imagined.

"It must be wonderful to love and be loved back like that." Hans offhandedly ponders the weighty subject aloud. He realizes that not a single person on this earth cared for him to that degree.

Even his twelve brothers, who were supposed to be _family_ disliked his combination of brains, good looks and charm — and they always treated the 'baby' of the clan like an outcast for it.

His bitter father became a widower on the detestable day of his birth and he had blamed the vulnerable little boy named 'Hans' for it, and reminded him every day, in subtle demeaning ways that his other sons had picked up, until the poor child was bullied, singled-out and shipped out to boarding school without visitations by anyone. He was cruelly ignored by his own relations, who shunned any effort on his part to join them in any familial way when he came home, once graduating the military academy with honors in every category.

The all-male clan had little or no compassion to the one who stole away the life of the only woman who perhaps could've taught her boys anything of kindness or gentleness, or about constantly not treating her youngest child as if he were 'invisible' his entire young life.

* * *

><p>"So…how long have you been here?" Elsa could sense some inner demons being battled. She nervously (after a small, polite sampling of the eggs and salt pork bacon he had whipped up especially for her, for etiquette's sake) dabs at her mouth with a dainty napkin and then rises to collect the plates and silverware from the table to bring them to the wash barrel on the floor, still half full of soapy water and dirty dishes, left undone.<p>

"Long enough." Hans, his back to her, begins gathering the basic ingredients from the larder cupboard near the floor, to prepare the Captain's luncheon, as he did everyday he was here, by rote by now. His points one thin-fingered hand back and up towards a 'calendar' he had devised from some wooden carton lids. Each carved checked mark signaled each passing day since he'd arrived, Elsa presumed.

On quick assessment, there were well over five hundred slice cuts into the wood piece hanging above the kitchen cutting board butcher block.

"But the better, more pressing question is, why are _**you**_ here?" Hans had never envisioned coming face to face (never mind lip to lip) with such a queenly beauty in his hellhole (_Pardon the expression, my lady_.) of a dirty old pirate ship.

"I…" Elsa considers sharing what she knew with this former, convicted enemy of the state, to the full extent of her journey's objectives, as she rolls up her sleeves and mechanically dunks her ladylike digits in the soapy, ice cold waters (_not a problem_) and begins to doggedly apply herself to scrubbing the remaining soiled dishware with the roughened sea sponge she finds inside the barrel.

It was the singular sort of task that this well born, sheltered royal princess turned pampered exalted Queen was never to have undertaken. But Elsa was learning that life—real life—was something best experienced hands on.

"Whoa—what?! _Ouch..!_ Queen Elsa, what do you think you're doing?! Ouch..!" Hans, who had been on all fours on the ground, collecting some root vegetables and food supplies from the hidden box stored behind the larder to keep them cool and preserved for long ocean voyages, uncharacteristically, clumsily, bumps the top side of his head at the same sore spot, of course, as he jumps up with a start upon hearing suds and water amidst scraping dishware clattering about.

He was up and on his feet in a matter of seconds, quickened steps across the small kitchen room bring him close to Elsa's dishwashing side. Hans falls to his knees again to her own kneeling form to the wash barrel, as he boldly grasps her hands up from beneath the swirling soapy waters they were submerged in.

"Queen Elsa! These hands were not meant for such hard, physical labor! Please, allow me." He chivalrously says, gently lifting her bare palms and wiping them dry, all the way up her exposed wrists and forearms with his chef's apron.

Elsa pauses at his caring touch, then remembers herself again.

"Prince Hans, the Captain permitted me open passage onboard this ship in trade for work as a scullery maid's services rendered. I must learn to adapt to my new occupation and bide my time wisely — just as you have." Elsa, too, finds herself unafraid to employ her 'too delicate' hands to turn his over in order to display the rough callused, rugged yet manly tone of his once similarly spoiled royal white appendages that she had felt, and secretly admired when he touched her before, with much regard.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." And with that holy statute on her lips, spoken directly to his eyes, Elsa extricates her hands from his grip to industriously take on the large pile of dirty dishes, used teacups, caked dried-food silverware, and greasy pans in the wash barrel at the ground level she'd been kneeling down to scrub.

Hans watches with growing respect in his gleaming eyes for the beauteous blonde ruler, as she puts her entire backbone into this new indefatigable task.

All of a sudden, Elsa finds the large barrel full of splashing water, rising above her, to be set upon another taller cask. Hans had also pulled a handcrafted wooden stool just at the correct level for her to sit upon as she washes.

"At least let me try to lighten your burden in whatever way I can. Besides, it is an unfit offense for a Queen to be on a level lower than her humble servant." Hans extends a diffident smile and strong hand out to Elsa.

She gazes up with her wondrous big blue eyes affixed to his as she accepts his gentlemanly lift from where she was kneeling on the floor.

In this moment, Elsa never knew how sublime it could be just to touch another human being's hand.

_His warm hand…_

Elsa muses with a small smile as she gets back to hard work, elegant elbow deep in scrubbing dishes clean, upon her stool's workstation.

Hans wordlessly gives in to her sovereignty as he returns to digging up his stored potatoes with a newfound smile on his lips.


	9. Chapter 8 - Lucky in Love

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 8**

"**Lucky in Love"**

"_La la la la sweet potato pie…la la la la piled to the sky! La la la la la la LALAAAAAAA!_

_I wanna eat and eat and eat and eat and eat until I die_!"

"Potatoes'll make a good lunch! Especially when they're sweet!" An enchanting young girl who had not a care in the world (unlike her poor sister) sings out to the noonday sky above the moving sled she was perched precariously upon. Her high, exuberant voice serenades the vibrant hills and snow-capped mountains, the busy green trees and summer grassy flowers—and each one of nature's woodland creatures found in the middle of nowhere, scurrying about the verdant valley in the back of beyond, as her bedazzled eyes take in the scenes greedily.

But all the beautiful splendor of a flawless blue sky and green trees and colorful flowers she'd always dreamt of, rumble past her upon the road, and her eyes filled with love, now saw something she now believed was even prettier.

"I am just so, so totally—" In her lovestruck distraction, Princess Anna of Arendelle, whose dreamy gaze had turned from each of nature's wonders and set her sights upon what must be classed as nature's eighth wonder of the world—her handsome, ripplingly musclebound sturdy husband, who, since their true honeymoon began (last night!) was all she could think of, all she could hear, all she could see.

"I am so, so totally—" But every time her mind, so lost in her proud ogling of one section of his body or another, Anna generally begins tripping over her own feet. Maybe this time, the jostling of the sled could be mildly to blame as it hits a rock in the road, though Anna's dizziness was more attributed to her being so deliriously in love with her hunky ice harvester.

"Right." Instantly dropping Sven's reins, neither man nor reindeer was in a real panic. Both were getting used to these necessary quick saves. His girl had a clumsy streak, but Kristoff didn't mind if the intimate rescues gave him extra opportunity to hold his wife close.

_My wife!_

Kristoff, in his calm, level-headed way, still was in disbelief that a big nobody Lapland oaf like him, could've landed such a rare, shining gem such as Princess Anna.

_I guess it's like Bulda said—we're meant to be._

The big, strapping lad quite skillfully manages to lunge across the sled to where Anna insisted on being a balancing ballerina and dance over on her tiptoes to their ample food supples, so she could play 'good little wife' and make a neat little packaged lunch to go on their road trip, for the pair of not so weary travelers.

"I gotcha." Kristoff manfully grasps her tiny waist as the girl was about to tip off the rear end of the moving sled backwards.

"—so lucky to have you…!" Anna breathlessly finishes her klutzed out observation right in Kristoff's smiling face.

"Anna, what part of 'not standing on the sled when it's in motion' do you not get? Do you even hear me when I'm talking to you? What if I wasn't here to catch you?" He tries to lecture her but the eyes spinning around in her pretty head to land crossed over her cute little nose was too mind-numbing.

"But you were!" Anna snaps out of it, getting her wind back to positively sing out loudly in his poor ear as he lifts her up to him, that Kristoff goes deaf for an ear waxy second.

"Yeah, and I guess I always will be." The big blonde runs a smiling hand through his 'unmanly' hair. His powerful arms then spin Anna's spry little body as if she were weightless, around to sit on his lap. He dangles both their legs over the sled's edge as she leans her head against his chest, toying fingers automatically beginning to count each one of his upper pectoral muscles. Her hands slide up beneath his shirt in a flash.

"Good idea, Sven." Kristoff calls up to the half-interested reindeer, who, driverless, begins to stop for a graze of some sweet honeysuckle on the path.

"Why don't you two stop for a picnic in the field on this fine day?" 'Sven' says in his slurring, deep voice, while the real Sven merely rolls his eyes at the silly games humans play.

"I think a picnic lunch sounds wonderful, Sven! I thought you'd never ask!" Though enjoying every moment of their hours' long ride spent chattering and singing with Sven and his musical lute, Anna had that kind of bubbly personality that embraced every opportunity life dished out, with enviable vivacity and pluck.

After finishing reaching around his ticklish torso, _(yes, he is ticklish!)_ she hops from Kristoff's lap onto the grassy knoll to spread the blanket her hands had grabbed across his toned railroad obliques from behind his tight bum, on the ground, with true busy bee flair.

As she skitters back and forth from the sled he was idly leaning over, to obtain various food delights, Kristoff marvels at how much energy his beautiful new bride (twice over) still owned after that noisy raucous ordeal of yesterday's troll marriage ceremony, singing and dancing, with hay and grass capes and crowns all—Valley of Living Rock style; and then the subsequent introduction to his childhood home that 'love experts' Cliff and Bulda made sure to outfit their Kristoff's old 'room' with a few more fresh leaf pillows and a new feather down mattress on his rock framed bed.

Thankfully, his adopted parents had covered the 'room' with a thick curtain of bark, to shoo away all the curious eyes blinking in the cave's peephole, to give the newlyweds some space and privacy.

Once overbearing Bulda had ascertained that Kristoff has just washed well at the nearby hot geyser spring, she even embarrassingly checked, within a giggling Anna's hearing range, that he thoroughly washed those lucky blue undies while he was there.

There may not have been much room left for romance under the circumstances but there was plenty of love between the two of at first thoughtfully tentative (mostly Kristoff) then impulsively impatient (all of Anna) double honeymooners about to consummate their twice blessed union.

"I'm ready! Oof…! Almost! I got this…! Kristoff! Just wait a second!" Bouncing to and fro like a magic pixie, Anna cries out in her boisterous spirited way to her new husband, who found her so very…alluring…

And absolutely—

"Take a ten minute drive over that hill's rise, Sven old buddy." Kristoff quietly suggests under his breath to his best friend of a reindeer, who knew instinctively what Kristoff was up to.

After all, Sven was used to playing the part of Kristoff's conscience.

The mysteriously smiling young man leaps from his Royal Ice Master and Deliverer's sled in a single bound, as with a purposeful and urgent intent, he rushes towards to sneak up on his unsuspecting bride, who, none too gracefully at the moment, was sprawling herself across the laid out blanket in her attempts to stretch it out to be big enough for their luncheon, to enjoy their repast upon.

But it wasn't the food the virile and brawny, well-built and restless Sami man, feeling his oats, was interested in partaking.

"_Lucky to be in every way…_" Now it was Kristoff who was now serenading the skies and trees and grasses as he sneaks up with playful hands covering over her startled eyes, behind a struggling to stretch the woolen blanket so it wouldn't have any wrinkly bumps to disturb their meal.

Though Anna needn't have gone to all the trouble for all the mussed fabric was about to endure through their giddy tussling, tickle time match. Pausing before he begins, Kristoff's rugged good looks go all soft and squishy with the tender love he felt for Anna evident as he intertwines in her yummy caramel hair, a sweet buttercup stem he had plucked from the bountiful grass at eye level, near by the blanket.

Anna's voluminous bright eyes were wide and inviting up at him. "You're so pretty…as pretty as that buttercup…all velvety yellow and butterfully." Losing it, Anna murmurs dizzily and runs her fingers through Kristoff's blonde tresses. His masculinity protested, but his sweetness didn't have the heart to argue with her.

"Did I tell you how much I _love_ butter?" Anna luxuriously prattles in the quiet still of the as yet untouched by civilization stretch of land beneath the warm, summer sun.

* * *

><p>Once the washing up was accomplished, Elsa, the able bodied 'scullery maid' goes to work in aiding Hans' preparation of the pirate's next meal as the sun starts to sink beneath the sea's horizon.<p>

"Be careful. It's getting dark and that knife is sharp." Hans warns, as Elsa picks up the utensil he'd just finished using to slice some cheese for the potatoes au gratin he was dishing up as a dinner side.

"I will be, thank you for your concern." Elsa addresses him in that oh-so-proper way in which she spoke to strangers, though the amount of nighttime dreams and/or nightmares she'd spent with Hans Westergaard over the past two years would constitute him as more than that.

Elsa suddenly senses his curious eyes upon her, and she nervously folds her guilty hands together in that wringing action she oft took when psychologically perturbed.

"Oh, is it permitted? Pardon me, I should've asked. May I take some of this cheese?" Secretly storing the slices she cuts away in the pocket of the apron he had given her earlier to wear (on which she faintly still detected his scent, though he wore no cologne).

"You can have anything here you wish, Queen Elsa. You needn't ask my permission." Hans answers kindly, though his sharp eyes did begin to wonder why she was spiriting bottles of water and milk and now foodstuffs in her clothing, behind his back, thinking he hadn't noticed.

Now Elsa glances down to her lap with express guilt at being caught upon her lovely features, she chewing on her knuckle nervously as a result.

"Did you know-" He suddenly interjects, clearing his throat with a disarming smile to ease her tension.

"Did you know, that there are over 33 methods of preparing potatoes that I have learned and used in practice here to high regard since beginning life as head chef aboard this vessel?" Leaning his head in to gain better vantage of her eyes, Hans directs his query to the shy girl as he waves a hand towards the potatoes in midst of preparation on the butcher block.

"No. No, I had no idea there were so many different ways." After gulping down her fear and shame, Elsa meets his inviting eyes in wonder of where this interesting turn of conversation was going.

"From simple boiled, to roasted, creamed, scalloped, grilled to mashed and made into shepherd's pie, there are numerous useful varieties to this amazing little guy." Holding it up in fine example as he speaks, Hans hands her on the table's cutting board she was working at, the potato he had just finished peeling.

"I'd like to show you how someday..." Strong hands then wrap around her unknowing inexperienced ones from behind as Hans starts to guide the young woman's shaky digits along with the knife, his fibrous sinewy arms tight around her upper torso as he proceeds to mentor her attempts.

After a few less than ideal cuts, nervous, uncoordinated and thoroughly bewildered by his rather intimate physical proximity, nonetheless, under Hans' tutelage Elsa was soon slicing the tuber with all the expert precision and ease his capable firm hands clasped around bestowed upon her.

"...to make a mean Potato Lefse." Adjusting his husky tone in her ear, Hans innocently whispers to her wide eyes of the traditional favorite tasty Scandinavian potato pancake that was more resembling a crepe than the mere breakfast fare.

_You are so warm..._Surprising herself when her innate ice abilities do not overreact at his near embrace, Elsa glances at their still joined appendages, Hans lingering his grip around her by now trembling form.

_Should I trust him with our secret? Will Rapunzel be safe if I don't, with __Eugene__ still locked in that cell? And what of Olaf? I tossed him inside a barrel…I believe…_

The startling ensuing actions that occurred directly after her swift dashed save of the conspicuous snowman somewhat blurred her precise memory of that time of his enthralling kiss.

Noting her sudden bristle for unknown reasons, Hans frees her hands from his, takes a step back and pauses before he begins to speak.

"If there were someone else—I'm just hypothesizing, for instance—who had accompanied you aboard this ship, perhaps I might suggest that there is a small area in the bilge's lower deck, not too far behind the cell hold where a living quarters with an unused bunk exists, just beyond the old boiler. It's left over now, when the Captain cut the crew down to nil, save Job, and where no one visits any longer."

"How can you be so sure…?" Elsa asks, then bites her lip as the natural question slips out aloud. She somehow felt accustomed to talking familiarly with him.

"Let's just say I spent some time in that boiler room before I realized learned culinary skills were more advantageous." He smiles as his focus returns to his cookery on the stove.

"And it's ready. So I'm off to deliver this meal to the Captain in his stateroom. Job should be where he is normally at this hour—above deck at the helm." Hans informatively speaks from experience as he glances through a porthole on the edge of the galley at the choppy rhythm of the waves as he passes by, carrying his tray.

Just as he is about to exit the deck up the ramp, he pauses to give a pensive Elsa a cautionary look.

"If you do leave the safety of this kitchen…Please be careful." His eyes meet hers in genuine concern. She was surprised to see such care for her well-being there, but this wouldn't be for the first time that Prince Hans had inexplicably extended his protection over her.

Elsa recalls again memories she'd been trying to shy away from, of those horrid days when she couldn't control cryokinetic powers to the point of sentencing Arendelle to an Eternal Winter. The mountain she climbed, the ice palace she'd built, the Duke of Weselton's men—and their crossbows—that Prince Hans had deflected, that ice chandelier, and then the blackness…

And the dungeon…

And nothing in between.

On information learned from Kai, Gerda had told her, much later, that it was Prince Hans who had brought her back to Arendelle, back to her home, after he'd carried the injured woman in his arms, from her ice palace, on his own horse's back all the way down the North Mountain.

And again, Gerda herself, through the door's peephole, had witnessed Prince Hans' vigil over Elsa's unconscious form at her bedside. To Gerda, from the way he'd looked sorrowfully at Elsa, to the compassionate way he'd covered her body in the cold, dark prison with a blanket, even placing a warming hand upon her cheek, it appeared to Gerda a tender gesture of uncommon affection.

_But why? Why does he keep showing me kindness? It was to his detriment at the time to save me—and not to let me die by the hands of those evil men of the Duke of Weselton. And then to cover me with a blanket in compassion?_

_When he was left in charge of the kingdom by Anna, and could have claimed all power to the throne, if he had just let the others execute me, out of their own fears..?_

_So many questions that I can't—I just can't bring myself to ask him—perhaps that is the cause of my nightmares—the fear of finding out the truth…_

_Yet, what of the dreams? Why_**_is_**_he reaching out for me to save him? Oh, Prince Hans, can I trust you now? That this isn't a trap that I'm walking into…_

Elsa's churning emotions cease abruptly upon her eyes looking up from slicing the cheese, to glimpse the kitchen table, where a fresh baked loaf of bread was all sliced and done up in strings, around brown paper wrappers. There was small note scribbled upon the top of the parcel in a fine, strong hand.

'_Everything I have is yours.'_

"I will trust you…" Elsa whispers to her convinced self as she quickly wraps the bread, along with the cheese to secret them in her apron, along with the bottles of water she'd prepared before into a basket she 'conveniently' finds awaiting on the butcher block, as if it were all planned out for her.

With these supplies in tow, she takes off. Her nimble feet race off into the dank ship's corridor. Elsa glances about furiously as she stumbles down the ramp and back in through the doorway leading to the bilges, where she and Hans had…

_Focus, Elsa! _

She wipes his imagining of his first, thrilling kiss with a little shake of her elegant head, from her foremost thoughts as she speeds towards the cell where Eugene was still caged within, still tinkering with the locks, while Rapunzel was sitting on the floor of the outside, massaging her poor husband's sore neck and back.

"Elsa! Are you all right?!" Rapunzel jumps to her feet and runs to embrace her supposedly captured cousin, left to some underhanded cabin boy's mercy, according to the tales Eugene had been relaying to her as he worked.

"I'm fine." Elsa answers, her eyes darting about as she gets her bearings.

"But that man! Eugene told me how he kissed you! You mean he didn't try to—?!" Rapunzel asks in a lowered eye whisper at the delicate subject she knew well about.

"No, not at all. He's been a perfect gentleman."

"Yup, watch out for those slick types. They lull you into a false security and then it's too late." Flynn comments snidely, believing sheltered Cousin Elsa had been hornswaggled by that drippingly handsome and cloyingly clever chap.

"We've met before. He knows about us—and all of this. But I don't think he'll let on he knows about it. He's even told me of a safe place for you to hide, close by—just around the corner, near the boiler."

"Great! Let's go see about it." Rapunzel was enthusiastic.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! He's working for the pirates now! Why do you think you can still trust him?!" Though Elsa seemed taken by this charmer, Flynn was more chary to believe the sly guy for anything—even without having any idea of his treasonous past with Elsa's kingdom.

"Because his eyes are kind." Elsa's heartfelt answer was not comforting to a jaded Flynn at all.

"Don't worry, Eugene! We'll just take a quick peek and come right back and tell you if he's right or not." At Rapunzel's words, Pascal's big eyes blink at Flynn with a thumbs up as he leaves his cell mate to hop onto Rapunzel's shoulder.

"…'Because his eyes are kind…'" Flynn taps into his feminine side again but this time more mockingly. "Gotta work on my eye contact skills. Who knew? Even ice queens can fall for a pair of goo-goo eyes. Or was it that guy's kiss? I got that one covered, right, Blondie? Keep 'em beggin' for more—that's my motto…"

* * *

><p>After settling Rapunzel in the albeit small, yet sufficient boiler room attendee's bunk, and assuring Flynn of its hidden aspect, Elsa unloads the pretty full basket of drink and food, she gives Rapunzel a quick smile and was just about to hurriedly return to the kitchen when—<p>

"_...or the funny way he talks…or the clumpy ways he walks…Or the—"_

Elsa, in a panic at all the noise, rushes up to the rum barrel and pushes its heavy lid that she'd forgotten she had pulled over to seal in a poor, by now unwittingly drunken, Olaf.

"…_way he likes to tinkle in the woods!" _

The snowman's droopy eyes and unsealed lips were on plain, crude singing display for his black hood had been removed to soak up the residual rum in the base of the keg barrel that was now filled with the snow flakes of his flurry.

"Shh! Olaf…!" Elsa couldn't quite blame the innocent creature for **her** folly in tossing him into the casing containing the odious alcoholic beverage.

But in her haste, she had believed it to be empty.

"Elsie…watch out! That was…uh…Prince Hans' voice…methinks I heard….Ohh! Why is your head spinning around the room?" Olaf was tipsy (more than usual) and collapses in Elsa's arms as she reaches in to lift him out of the barrel.

"He might be tricking you, Elsie…!" Obviously having heard some of their conversation, Olaf drunkenly exclaims as she tries to clamp an icy hand over his mouth.

"Please don't call me that, Olaf!" She hisses at him.

"What? 'Elsie?' Prince Hans did."

"Well, I don't like it!"

"Why?"

"I just don't!"

"Why?" He persists in his lowered eyelid wavering uncovered head.

"Because it sounds like a cow's name!" The royal queen unwillingly admits her vanity through quiet, clenched teeth.

"Why did Hans say that? You're too sleek to be a cow. Hans is wrong again."

"He's got a point there…" Flynn adds coal to the fire. He just happened to pick up that bit of their conversation, as Elsa reaches where he was sitting on his cell floor.

"Olaf!" Elsa was too flustered by the question to even answer it civilly. She shoved his tinged with rum balaclava hood back over his head. "Behave for Cousin Rapunzel while I'm gone." She orders, giving the dizzy snowman over to Rapunzel, though planting an understanding, sympathetic kiss on his black-covered forehead.

_Ick! I don't like the taste of alcohol…!_

Olaf just starts to hum. "Okay, Elsie! No! No…that's wrong…'Elsa!' Olaf will be good—good fixer fixer fixer upper…" Back into his happy song-filled state, Olaf sinks, deliriously smiling into Rapunzel's growing more ample chest. She, or was that Eugene's wandering arm and thieving fingers, had unlatched her tied down cleavage.

Rapunzel gives a squeeze of the hand and a wiggled fingered wave to Elsa as she leaves, with Olaf following suit.

"I can fix this fixer fixer upper with a little bit of love…!"

_Love?_

Olaf brings a smile to Elsa's lips as she leaves him in Rapunzel's care in the secret hidden room Hans had somewhat cryptically suggested to her while she was trying to covertly smuggle food here.

_How does Prince Hans know what I'm thinking?_

"Slow down there, lady." Not strictly speaking of only her pumping legs speeding past his cell again, Flynn casually calls out in insinuating double entendre. "Have a good night…!"

She hears his voice echoing behind her.

* * *

><p>Upon Elsa's harried return to the galley, she was relieved to find the kitchen still vacant. As she returns the basket to its hook near the cupboard, Elsa's ears are suddenly drawn to the calm, lilting sound of music softly emanating from inside the doorway connecting to an interior room.<p>

Entranced, her cautious mind screams to pause before the door, but she could not keep her enchanted feet from entering.

"_Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream? Or are you really as wonderful as you—"_

"Oh, pardon me, Queen Elsa. I do tend to take to song when working. I didn't even realize it."

Hans abruptly ceases singing in mid-melodious perfect note, whilst his industrious hands had been adjusting some quick construction of a tall wooden screen and fabric curtain that he had devised in the short time he'd been down in the bilges.

"What are you—?" Elsa gazes around the room, lit by the swaying, dimmed candlelight.

It was a small, to put it mildly, and simple, for lack of other words, living quarters, designed to house the single cook of the connected galley kitchen, for quick access to his employ.

A bar was across an inlet that served as a clothing cupboard behind the door and there was a little table holding a chipped porcelain wash basin with a miniscule excuse of a piece of broken mirror, whose luck had run out long ago, hanging over it on a hook that also doubled as a little towel holder.

There were extra cloth towels and a sharp knife for shaving placed neatly beside them. Beyond a dilapidated chair whose slatted back was chunked out and its multiple legs appeared to have each been repaired, the remainder of the room appeared Spartan.

Although, a great part of the already diminutive room was obscured by the piece of hewn plywood screen that Hans had just finished nailing with a hammer to stay lodged in place.

"I hope you don't find the accommodations too arduous, but my—this - sleeping chamber is rather tight." The tall man, though having no prior building experience whatsoever, used his brains to create the wooden partition screen he was just hammering together with a hinge he had found below deck, to make it movable as a kind of sliding overlay to shield a hidden area.

"Sleeping chamber?" Elsa repeats as the reality of his tentative words begin to sink in. Her eyes widen as Hans flexes his slim but extremely fit muscles to slide this newly erected screen back to reveal a bed concealed behind it.

With much on her mind all the day long seeing to Rapunzel and Olaf's comforts, Elsa had not thought through what would become of her own living 'accomodations' for the night, on this dangerous venture she had boldly undertaken.

Her eyes flash up at him in sudden fear, recalling what the pirate Captain had intimated before.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean— This bed is entirely yours now, Queen Elsa. I only wanted to give you the privacy a lady deserves." Hans had noticed her implicating fright and puts up both hands guilelessly.

"But what of you? Where will you sleep?" Elsa's leeriness turns to concern for this high-class man's selfless act of chivalry. His gentle eyes then completely put her mind at ease.

"There've been harder floors than this." Hans smiles a bit sardonically at he points at that narrow alcove of the cleared out cupboard across the room where a beat up blanket or two were ready to be laid out for him to sleep in the recessed cove on the wooden floor.

"But you need—" Elsa shakes her head at his gentlemanly nature, still foremost at hand, as she glimpses the multiple sheets and fluffed pillows piled on the bed's mattress awaiting her.

There was even a long shirt draped over one of the bedposts to suffice for a nightgown.

"—I need to take care of you. Please allow me this—if only to pay some small recompense for my past crimes against you and Arendelle—and perhaps give my fruitless life some meaning." Hans once again astounds Elsa by taking both her hands now in his, to lace their fingers and kiss the back of her pale hands to his lips in reverence.

"Thank you…" Elsa manages to say after a long pause spent watching their coupled hands. She was surprised to find her hands did not even begin to emanate the frost at his touch that she believed such close physical contact with a man would.

But the warmth in his eyes took the cool of her breath away…


	10. Chapter 9 - A Morning of Revelations

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

**"Frozen Again: 'But The Greatest of These is Love'"**

**Chapter 9**

**"A Morning of Revelations****"**

"A-ha! Now I'm talkin'! Who da man?!"

In the wee hours of the morning, Flynn Rider's triumphant whisper can't help but cry out in pride as he, after a long night playing with his locks, finally succeeds in cracking open the final latch of the last difficult deadbolt he'd been tirelessly working on.

There had been seven (_Count them!) _difficult types of all makes and model of lock—two of which were so old they were nearly rusted out, never mind the three deadbolts that had been clamped on his cell door fully designed to keep the master thief from escaping.

_But these boys don't know who they're messing with!_

A smug Flynn was so full of it as his excited hands remove the last despicable barrier to his freedom, his arrogance was palpable in the air…

As was that pungent stench, suddenly pervading the entire already none-too-fragrant cell hold.

_P-U! _

"I wondered how long it would take you."

_That insipid smooth voice again! Man, if I didn't have bad luck…How do I get this jerk off my back?! He's everywhere! Like horse puckey!_

"So what's the procedure here? Are you gonna sound the alarm? Or are you planning on keeping this cell door between me and my freedom shut—all with your own namby-pamby bare hands, pretty boy. **You **just got lucky before." Flynn drawls the challenge to the thinner, in his opinion, scrawnier man. After all, he was endowed with big muscles, which he counts on, though his own hands, fingers and wrists were raw, painful and pounding—and had somewhat lost sensation from the hours of being strung up yesterday. (_Thanks, pal_.) His flexing muscles could still manage a mean left hook to wipe the simper off that guy's face.

And with his freed legs, Flynn powerfully kicks the unlatched cell door open with a smile on his bumptious face.

"Who said I was bare handed?" Prince Hans of the Southern Isles displays his own prowess as his haughty imperiousness rears its magnificent head once his pride in his own abilities was questioned.

For Hans knew every inch of this ship backwards and forwards by now—especially this brig's contents as he ducks into a siding where a secondary cage cell resided near the ramp entrance he came in.

"Hey! I know I'm good but I didn't really expect you tuck tail and hide, handsome."

"Ooo-kay…That is a _**BIG **_sword…"

As he walks out of his cell a free man Flynn loses some of his starting bravado by the end. His normally lowered eyes bulge out when Hans swiftly reemerges from the dark barred cove with a rather dangerous and deadly looking broadsword wielded in his 'namby pamby' bare hands.

"Please return to your captivity, Sir. It is unwise for you to attempt an escape at this time on the open seas. Return to your confinement or I'll be forced to run you through."

Flynn swallows hard as the resoluteness in Hans' voice expertly shows off his proficiency at swordplay by slicing the long blade in throwing in a few practice swings that appeared redundant as he tosses the wide bladed weapon back and forth between his ambidextrous hands.

GULP._ Where's a frying pan when you need it?!_

"Since I'm truly growing rather tired of cleaning the dirty floors, I'd prefer not to draw your blood here."

The casual way that Hans spoke of blood-letting was a bit disturbing to Flynn, who 'preferred' to keep all his blood in his veins—thank you very much.

However, he had a ship to commandeer with a pair of females, a talking snowman, and a color-changing frog—that he was single-handedly responsible for bringing safely back to land.

"Well, I don't do the housekeeping here, so I wouldn't mind spilling yours all over the floor, good lookin'." A mocking, courageous Flynn, having more than a bit of observation skills of his own thieving variety, recalled seeing that one of the metal bars of his cell looked stressed and loose and—

"Urghhh!" With a loud grunt, he utilizes all the strength in his equally half-paralyzed and half-frostbitten arm to **_rrrrippp_** that wobbly bar the rest of the way from its cage structure.

"Impressive." Hans gives credit where credit is due. His own cold, calculating eyes widen at this interesting prisoner's singular feat of wrenching one of the iron bars from his cell with his hands alone.

"Yeah…I didn't know I had that in me! Maybe after all these years, Blondie's magic hair powers did give my hands super strength! Who would've thought it?! Hah!" Flynn Rider puffs up with pride as he makes this happy discovery of his newfound manifesting massive strength.

Hans pauses before speaking. His clever mind decided it would be more to his advantage to have his opponent imprudently believe in some 'magic' superpower that didn't really exist. Hans personally knew that particular cell bar was already loose in its mortar base. Some past occupant obviously already put in the time to chip at the mortar holding the bar in place, but failed to finish the job before he was probably a goner.

"Come on, Sideburns! What're you waitin' for?! Bring it!" Flynn, feeling powerful, armed with his long metal bo-staff runs, lunging forward at Hans who deftly sidesteps out of the way of Flynn's first punishing blow.

_**Clang! Clang!**_

Iron staff deflects sword. Sword blocks staff.

The two able-bodied men go at it with a vengeance. Hans Westergaard's years of honed fencing and trained sword wielding skills pay off dividends; though Flynn Rider's wild improvisation techniques of attack and bob and weave style give the experienced swordsman a run for his money.

_**POW! Clang! BANG! Slice~!**_

Hans' sword comes within millimeters of gashing a serious wound across Flynn's concaved, avoiding chest, as his tight black shirt's sliced tear flips open to reveal his rather hairy and very masculine chest heaving wildly with all the effort.

"Hey! That was my—_Ungh!_—slickest shirt!" Flynn idly comments as he whacks his bar into thin air, then glances down at his trashed, favorite black shirt peeling off his exposed chest, as if he was not in the middle of hand-to-hand, life in the balance combat.

"If I ever get back home—ugh!—I'll be sure to purchase you a new one. _Ungh_!" With his natural acerbic wit, Hans smiles. His own normally held back male testosterone levels enjoyed this sparring rematch more than he had imagined he would.

"After all—_ugnh_—black is the color always worn at funerals—even for a thief." Prince Hans lets his darker side peek out again, as unleashed in their fierce battle, a man's ferocity could not be quenched by mere words anymore.

"Oh, yeah? That is hitting below the belt!" _**Whack!**_ In synchronization with his choice of words, Flynn uses Hans' diving momentum to spin around from the sword's vicious blade thrust and horizontally hold his long iron bar to hit just the correct spot.

_**Bam! **_

Flynn's iron bar, though not swinging with as much force as it was crashed into with precision, connects painfully with Hans' lower torso. The auburn head bends over as he backs off, clutching at his no doubt bruised hipbones with an angered expression on his pained face. His breath comes out ragged and hard.

"You, Sir, are no gentleman…" Feeling this man was his wily equal again, Hans retorts with a grunt, eyes to the top of his skull as he doubles over trying to catch his breath back.

"Well, I never claimed to be! Just a good looking orphan boy with magic fingers!" Flynn answers with a conceited chuckle as he lords over Hans' doubled over form, deciding on how hard he would clobber the guy.

But when he nears, Flynn's precious nose wrinkles in disdain at Hans.

"Ewwww! That smell is on you! What have you been wallowing in, pal?" Flynn covers his nose with the grossed-out question.

"Forgive me. As I stated before, I just came from my most _**favorite **_weekly task on this vessel—scraping the extremely full between deck. I merely was going to peer in to enquire of your well-being before changing my work clothes when I caught you escaping." Hans apologizes, as the conscientious neat-freak in him looking rather embarrassed of the dirty and most odorous of his shipboard responsibilities.

But someone had to do the filthy deed and of course the worse chores fell to the paid-for 'slave.'

"Hngh…I'd do more than change my clothes if I were you." Flynn backs away, pinching his offended nose closed.

"Yes, thank you for your kind advice. Could we please get back to our joust?" Hans asks this most exasperating foe.

"Only if you stay downwind." Flynn demands under his breath, still holding his nose with the back of one of his hands.

"Then, the advantage is mine." Hans swiftly takes this opportunity of Flynn's single hand holding his iron bar, to suddenly make a grab for the metal with both of his own capable hands, after he sheathes his sword in his belt.

With determined resolve to win, Hans capitalizes at Flynn's shock to his quick, underhanded actions unbefitting a proper sword match. While the two men vie for control of the struggle, Hans' energized, sinewy arm muscles bristle in raised pumping veins, forcing the larger man backwards to trip and crash into a remote area of the bilge.

Flynn's head bashes into a solid steel wall. It smarted, but he was actually knocked out cold, as his luck would have it, by the heavy metal staff they'd been fighting over clunking down on his poor noggin for good measure as his dazed body sinks to the ground.

"It's not time for you to show your hand, Rider. Believe me, I know. This pirate Captain Houtebeen possesses a cache of many weapons onboard this ship—too many deadly firearms that have become his pride and joy in his dwindling years. Both he and Job are expert marksmen. You wouldn't stand a chance against a lead bullet for all your deft skills of maneuvering and thievery." Hans speaks in respected deference, not knowing if the semi-conscious man was understanding his recommended advice of non-aggression until the right moment.

"If I were you, I'd wait until we were docked to make my move. At sea, this pirate has the advantage. On land, we may just be able to outwit him—once his intent us revealed in his weakness- lust for greed."

An astute strategist in his clever brilliance, sagacious Hans finishes dragging the heavier man back into his cell, then relocking each of the locks that Flynn had so tirelessly slaved over to open. He even reapplies the handcuffs to Flynn's wrists again to ensure his wily digits could not master the locks again so quickly.

"We only have a few days left of ocean travel, if I correctly perceive the ship's course settings. You should be able to have these sorted out by then. So, don't try anything rash again to alert the Captain of your betrayal as his henchman—for the sake of the ladies—_err, _lady—please." Hans leaves the now completely secured cage. Though uncertain of Flynn's ability to hear his shrewd pointers, he had ascertained with his keen periphery that there was an audience to which his voice grew to a louder volume would hear, and who might have more pull than he in convincing this sly thief in the wisdom of his warning.

"I leave you now, to go and bathe—as per your advice. Good day, Sir." Hans pauses as he returns his sword and sheath to its rightful owner (another skeletal former prisoner) to make a clipped bow to the man who had nearly bested him again.

Hans had never felt so equaled by any other man than this Flynn Rider in artful cleverness.

"_Be therefore as cunning as serpents, and as gentle as doves." _

The phrase of Christ-like wisdom stabilizes Hans' stalwart heart and mind.

* * *

><p>Now Elsa, who had been calm and composed all morning, after she had helped the breakfast meal to be prepared and her dishwashing completed, had sat in Hans'—now their <em>shared<em>—_sleeping chamber_, (the very combination of words gave her goosebumps yet) to gaze about at what Prince Hans had been subjected to for these past two years.

In the morning's daylight, the surroundings of his small, galley cabin had a more quaint, cozy atmosphere than the dark claustrophobic mystery it retained at night.

She walks over to touch each of the items there with a delicate finger on the small table that served as his wash basin stand. A crude bar of soap, that shaving knife and those small towels were all carefully arrayed and neatly stacked as they were awaiting her this morning when she had awakened to find Hans already busy cooking at the stove.

Upon walking out into the kitchen, she almost felt domesticated to find him there, yet again harmonizing a pleasant tune. She even almost joined in with his singing but the shy reserved side of her held back.

Looking around now, there was another littler night stand piece made of a thick wicker type basket material at the head of the bed she had slept shockingly soundly upon last night.

_And not a trace of the dreams either…How puzzling…_

As she was in passing thought, Elsa's eyes catch sight of a bit of yellow paper with some small printed words transcribed upon it, peeking out from some of the basket's weaves beneath the candle in its wax holder.

Though she knew she shouldn't pry into someone else's business—her dear mother had taught her better etiquette than that—Elsa still felt compelled to open the basket to see what was hidden inside.

Slowly, cautiously, regardfully, Elsa picks up the candlestick with her left hand and lifts the basket's lid with her right. Her gaze was surprised to see the multitude of pieces of paper, most of which were torn and uneven scraps that appeared to be folded and battered as if read over and over, then crunched in a pocket or leaned on a food stained kitchen pot or pan numerous times each.

Gingerly delicate, Elsa chooses one paper shred with particularly neat handwriting to peruse with a guilty bitten lip, as she secretly desires to discover the mystery to her who was Hans Westergaard.

"'_Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth where moth and rust do corrupt and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven where neither can be corrupted or stolen. For where you treasure is, there will your heart be also._ - Matthew 6: 19-21'"

Elsa quickly grabs up another scrap and reads to herself in a whisper. "_Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart and ye shall find rest in all your souls._ - Matthew 11: 28-29."

And once more, her eyes dart across the small, uneven scribbled missives written all in the same hand.

"_Whoever wants to be great must be your servant first; and whoever of you is a servant must be a slave to all. For even the Son of Man comes not as a master, but as a servant—to give His life for a ransom to many._ – Mark 10: 43-45"

The unmistakable penmanship was the same as that on the note she'd read yesterday that said _'Everything I have is yours_.' By now, tears were biting right behind Elsa's beautiful eyes as she realizes the voice of the Bible's wisdom showed there was truly beauty in Hans' soul amidst the torment, and he was reaching, through the Word for God's guidance—guidance, path_ and_ forgiveness.

Elsa reaches her hand in the basket for another crumpled text. "_If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins—to cleanse us from all unrighteousness_."

Elsa's eyes were opening to a new aspect of Hans that she had not known existed. It was one that she found, to say the least, admirable, as she reads his written words obviously jotted down from memory that looked so worn and tattered with food stains and dirt splattered across each of the no-longer white papers that it could be seen he had pored over each many times on his long, lonely penitent journey.

"_So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal._' 2 Corinthians 4:8"

Elsa pauses here to consider.

_Prince Hans, you found solace and forgiveness in the same place I did…Is this part of why I feel so connected to you? We have both been searching alone for so long—but do I see something more in those pleading eyes of yours in my dreams…?_

"Queen Elsa? Are you in the kitchen?" Hans' voice breaks through her circumspective inner thoughts. A guilt-ridden Elsa, feeling prevaricatively indiscreet at peeping through his private affairsuninvited, quickly gathers all of the papers from her lap and shoves them (_Forgive me, Lord_) back into the wicker basket used for a nightstand.

She glances about wildly, looking for the candle to sit on top again as it was, but in her haste she knocks it over on its side.

"Yes! I've been here cleaning up!" Elsa tries to hide her breathless rush back to the kitchen's cutting table. The reserved, shy little girl in her was still afraid to be caught doing what she was not supposed to be doing.

She was telling the truth, after all. She **_had_** been in the kitchen cleaning.

"Oh, I thank you for that. May I impose on your kind nature a bit more and ask you to…Fetch a rutabaga from the further back larder box where it's kept? And then chop it up finely…please?" Hans' normally steady voice sounded a tad perturbed as it cracks, emanating from somewhere outside the galley entrance.

"Certainly…" Elsa answers, confused. He had shown her earlier where the winter vegetables were kept, buried deep in a thick wooden box, stored behind the stove and cutting board, in the dark, to retain their freshness.

She just wondered why he was not actually visible as he was speaking to her.

_Oh, well…_

In his apron, in his oversized shirt, she kneels down, quite unsuitably for a queen, on all fours, as she had seen him do, to pry open the somewhat heavy wooden lid—

_**Whoosh!**_

_What was that? _

Elsa's tense mind mildly notes, then dismisses the gust of breeze she felt vaguely blow across her bent over brow. She was having enough trouble distinguishing which rooty vegetable was which (a Queen wasn't normally trained to know raw veggies by name). She was distressed to find that he couldn't tell a rutabaga from a radish.

"Prince Hans?" Elsa stands up and dusts her apron, holding two brownish, bulbous roots, one in each hand. She wanted to ask him which vegetable he was requesting before she cut up the wrong precious commodity on a ship. Or if she got either right at all.

But upon a glance about the kitchen and not seeing him returned, she quite innocently strides into the bedroom—_err, sleeping chambe_r—becoming more acclimated to just waltzing in and out and just seeing him here and there.

But not like this.

The modest young girl in Elsa verbally squeaks aloud upon entering the small room. For even in the dim lighting, she could clearly make out Hans' basic silhouette form from the backside.

And he was not wearing much yet on it—save for his tall, trademarked pair of black boots and a towel slung over his shoulders.

"Ohh! Please pardon me." Elsa just about can excuse herself as her wide, ashamed eyes soak in every slender line and well defined toned muscle perfectly intersecting along the curving arch of his gorgeous back—all the way down to the incredibly tight flats of his divine thighs.

"—Elsa!" He calls out after her retreat.

"Err, Queen Elsa! I should've dressed more in haste. I am so sorry you had to see that! I just expected you to take longer in cutting up that—" Still pulling on his billowy white shirt over his open chest, his pants firmly on, Hans comes into the connected kitchen to find his blamelessly, faultless, innocent and untainted angel named Elsa—

—had taken to her wings and flown the coop.


	11. Chapter 10 - Part of Your World

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 10**

**"Part of Your World"**

Elsa was still tightly clutching rutabaga and radish in either tensed hand as she blindly races from the galley and up towards the welcoming light of day on the upper deck to escape her new trials.

Looking left and then right, trying to get her bearings, Elsa pauses in her hysterical race to pant against some unfamiliar wooden wall.

_Why did I go in there without knocking first?! Elsa, he must think you such a fool!_

Losing her control over her ice powers, again in her manic confusion, Elsa rushes through the corridors, needing to feel the warming sun on her tempestuous face again as she always did now when seized with sudden tumultuous spasms at those times when she first began her emotional rehabilitation under Anna's bright shiny care.

"And vere do you zink ye're goin', Missy?"

But just as Elsa takes her first incoherent step up onto the 'Pearl Lady's' deck, the brilliant, blinding sun greeting her face almost immediately sets in the flash of a dark, foreboding, unctuous second. Both rutabaga and radish fall to the deck with a splatting clatter.

"Aye. Ye come a-runnin' to get ze attentions of Captain Houtebeen, have ye, lass? Zat toffy nosed pup not treatin' a fine lady like ye, proper like? Houtebeen be at yer service, ma'am." The condescending, oozing simulated charm of the 'sympathetic' odious pirate, as he grabs Elsa from behind, smoothly exudes feigned compassion for the 'poor, misled' lass moments after she appears, scared and blinking in the sudden sunlight from below deck.

"Come closer, pretty girlie, so Houtebeen can have a better look at ye. Then I'll take ye below and show ye how a real man should treat ye…"

Elsa shrinks within herself, trying to back away, uselessly attempting to pull away against his stronger brute force, as rough, dirty hands travel along her curves and his hideous face leers at her. His graying red beard was all grimy looking, the closer his face comes towards her. His cracked, blackened teeth and foul stench of him was almost bad enough to cause panic-stricken Elsa to faint as the vile pirate moves in to steal a kiss from her struggling, unwilling, delicate lips—

But there was a self-defense mechanism inside of this frightened young woman, that was almost about to kick in with terrifying result as Queen Elsa shivers uncontrollably in fear, and ice once again begins to grip her heart…

"Unhand that lady!" Just as Elsa's ambient ice powers were about to be unleashed, Hans Westergaard's fiercest voice, full of genuine caring and protection for her, warms her now thoroughly chilled heart to pause in its attack, as he appears above deck.

Chasing her frantic dash, Prince Hans had rushed up through the ship and up the ramped steps in his tall, imposing pair of boots. His unbuttoned shirt was open and blowing in the breeze, his auburn hair caught fire in the sun, still damp it glimmers with water particles in the fresh sunlight, and the steely expression on his handsome face made such an impeccably ideal picture of a perfect hero, the likes of which Elsa had only glimpsed in storybooks of old—that he quite took her breath away.

"Vat did ye say, leetle cabin boy?" Captain Houtebeen was not as impressed, though. He demeaned Hans with his uncomplimentary words, accompanied by a sneered gnarl on his mug at him.

This was the defining moment as the pair of men glare across the ship's open deck at one another the challenge, with Elsa caught helplessly in between.

Although, she wasn't the helpless 'damsel in distress' that needed saving. For this evil Captain had absolutely no idea of how deadly her inherent powers could be.

But Hans did. And his calculating intellect already knew how the sadistic pirate would react to discovering Queen Elsa's secret magic. He would either kill her right now on sight and be done with her in his irrational fear, or kill her later, after he had raped her powers for his own wicked, villainous depravity and intent.

And Hans Westergaard would rather die by the sword first, before allowing any man to mar regal, beautiful Queen Elsa of Arendelle's purity.

"I said _**UNHAND THAT LADY, **_please." The courageous, distinguished young man closes the distance between he and his new enemy with long, purposeful strides, and a quickly gathered pirate cutlass along the way.

He draws, with scraping metal against its scabbard as his eyes meet Elsa's with explicit instruction to keep absolutely still.

"Have ye lost yer senses, boy?! Don't ye know who Captain Houtebeen is?! Houtebeen's been called ze finest shot wit a revolver on ze high seas!" And with that prideful statement, the vicious peg leg reaches for his trusty weapon in its leather holster at his side. He trains its sight at Hans' pretty boy head…

"Since'n yer such a goodly cook and usually a handy slave by me zese past two years, Houtebeen will give ye one chance to recant yer childish struck dumb wit young love threat—if ye return to yer kitchen duties and let me have me way with zis wench."

The Captain's focus was on Hans, with his sniveling, smiling ultimatum—though perhaps he should've been paying more attention to Elsa, who, inspired by Hans' bravery in the sight of immense danger to himself calmly finds her center to reach her long, dainty fingers and their endowed 'claws' as she was still in close proximity, pressed against the dubious pirate's foul chest, waits for Prince Hans to utter the word she knew instantly was on the tip of his tongue that would certainly seal his fate. Her pleading eyes reach out for his now, begging for his warning glance to concede and just let her go with her ice powers—

"_**NEVER!"**_

Hans' strong tenor voice rings out. He utilizes all his speed and focus and skills with a blade—any blade—even a pirate's rounded cutlass. Long ago, Hans had trained himself to hone his balance and inner strength as his cunning mind calculates everything, from wind velocity to trajectory, in a split second of racing time.

Captain Houtebeen, for his part, keeps to his dark promise of firing off his pistol's dead eye shot...

_Pity…Houtebeen enjoyed zat boy's potato soup and will miss his cooking much. Ah vell…zere will be others…_

But before his single shot's lead bullet is sent careening wildly towards the impudent lad who had become infatuated with a woman, and let her be his foolish downfall, the 'wench' herself in his unattended grip, breaks free. She rips her long, pointed fingernails across his face, scratching off the despicable man's eyepatch in her clawed wake, causing the old coot to growl and scream as now his misdirected bullet zings towards Hans.

The quick-witted man had to recalculate his actions, as he dodges and simultaneously swings his cutlass at the multi-roped canvas riggings. Its released tension does indeed send the gaffe rigged fore-to-aft mainsail loose to spring forward to swipe its powerful sweep back across the deck and, as mind-boggingly calculated by a genius—

—directly where Captain Houtebeen would have been standing.

Note the auxiliary future perfect tense verb, '_would_ _have_.'

In his vehement anger at his one good eye being almost scratched out as well, enough to cause blood to be spilt down his frightful, menacing features, a crazed Captain Houtebeen viciously fulfills his earlier threat. And before either Hans or Elsa could think or speak another thought, the burly pirate lifts the terrified Queen of Arendelle over his roused to rage bloody head that she had personally injured. He sees to it, in a maddened fury, that he tosses her flailing body overboard.

"_**ELSA!"**_ Hans' screech was soul-wrenching as he dashes to the ship's rail ledge beside the evil Captain.

Hans was not calculating nor scheming nor planning anymore, as he fearlessly makes a diving leap over into the deep, to save the woman he—

"Elsa! Elsa!" Hans bobs around the crashing waves surrounding the full steam moving seacraft. His muscular legs fight the ship's undertow into its surging rudder and keel.

_But did she go under already?_

Hans' mind was furious with himself, as he dives under the murky waters, eyes greedily scanning for this delicate young woman's slender body most likely in need of his breath's resuscitation.

If it took all he had, he'd give his last breath for her.

But there was nothing. Again, he dives, headlong under the sea's crest. His own breath was sparse and thin by his fourth diving search for the young woman.

He didn't dare allow himself to indulge in the belief, until right now, in his desperation to find her and bring her pure magnificent beauty back safe, that he truly loved her.

Not for some schemed plot to become ruler—not for some selfish conquest of manipulating her wealth—both physical and magical. No.

This was the most honest, simple, truthful feeling, beyond his renewed relationship with the Lord, that Hans ever felt.

That beautiful, pure of heart, innocent, demure and vulnerable—yet still strong and firm in her beliefs Queen Elsa of Arendelle was, after all his dreams, the singular angel he'd fallen madly in love with.

_Do I love you because you're wonderful? Or are you wonderful because I love you? _

_I will never know now. _

_Because of me, must she be punished? My fallen nature—I always lose everything I love in the end. Perhaps it is my fate to walk alone. Please, God, help my angel find Your light…_

Job's dark arm cuts around Hans' upper torso, just as the frantic man, too, was slipping under the deep blue. He drags a despondent Hans back from the dark depths onto the Pearl Lady again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Into the watery dark depths, under the sea…<strong>_

_Sinking, sinking…I can't stop falling. Where does it stop? When do I hit bottom?_

Queen Elsa's incoherent mind floats across the swirling waters, as does her flailing, unresponsive body.

_Is this what it feels like to drown? I feel like there is no up, nor down, no left nor right, no back or forth…Just drifting, with no anchor and no hope of a horizon. Did this happen to you, Mama, Papa? _

Elsa's semi-conscious mind gazes about the undercurrent of churning ocean waves as she tries to reach out to her parents, who too suffered this same fate when their ship sunk some five years ago.

_Dear Lord Jesus, if this is the end, please take me to be with You and my papa and mama, and let Anna know…_

_Tell Anna I died feeling her warmth, her love all around me._

Elsa closes her eyes in pious submission to His plan for her with a fond farewell thought to her beloved little sister.

_And please take care of Prince Hans. He's searching for You, too, just like I was._

Elsa's final thought, as she lets her mind go, reflect the current state of her heart—a heart which another lost soul touched enough to believe she could've found out what true love was perhaps.

But their time was far too short.

_Thy will be done, Lord…_

Somewhere inside of her, a warm and safe peaceful sensation overtakes her and a tiny sparkle begins emanating from inside Elsa's no longer frozen heart.

Her cryokinetic powers spring to a life all their own. A thin coating of ice vergles form over her mouth and nose as involuntarily, the ice creates a small vacuum over the last breath of warmth held inside her mystical body. A cryogenic status coats her unconscious form from the inside out. She was frozen, but her life force, her spirit and mind, still had hidden warmth within as the currents pull her further away…

_Swim flutter flutter flap swim flutter flutter flip bubble_

A school of young flounder fish quickly swish past the strangely floating, unknown entity with their father fish in lead. Several playful dolphins create bumper cars alongside a carp making harplike music who slowly eyes the new discovery, as he floats towards it in A major.

A slew of sea horses tinkle their tiny cymbals, seeming to call many other varieties of sealife to have a curious peek at this odd, pale lavender blue skinned creature who owned a pair of -_- whatd'ya call them? - Oh, feet!-_- floating in their ocean, until a deep crimson red crustacean clamps his claws together authoritatively and the lot of ocean dwellers disperse to make way for a beautiful melody flowing closer across the gentle ocean waves…

* * *

><p>"C<em>ough cough <em>cough...<em>"_

The next thing Elsa remembers is waking up on a sandy beach with the sun's vibrant rays doing their work, melting the outer cryogenic state of her body and bringing the inside back to a normal warm rate. (For the Snow Queen.)

The next thing she had to work on was breath.

_Huff, huff, huff _

"Where am I…?" When Elsa is finally able to speak, she glances around an empty afternoon beach front, wondering just how long she'd been lying on this shore.

How did she get here? How did she survive the chasmless sea's terrors? How did she—?

"How did I end up wearing this?!" She glances down at the very small, beautiful light blue seashell corset type covering. "And why is it so immodest?!" Elsa blushes at her exposed upper torso, very glad to find herself alone and in a long matching, slinky skirt. It shimmers in the bright sunlight as it drags upon the shore.

"Whoever gave me these clothes at least has some good taste." Elsa tries to smile at her strange situation. She glances at the pearl necklace bracelet with a very special conch seashell pendant attached. A matching seashell decorates the well coiffed braid of her pale blonde hair.

"I wonder who gave this to me? Who took care of me?" She stands to her feet shakily and gazes about for anyone to ask a question of. She grasps her aching head as she does. She may have had a headache but the prick of the rocks of the sand between her bare toes told her she was still alive.

_After all, there's no pain anymore for us in Heaven._

Elsa smiles, the love and warmth in her heart given this second chance, longed to embrace the little sister who adored running barefoot along the beach, once upon a long, long time ago, when she and Anna were tiny, tiny girls—

"Papa and Mama would bring us—"

Thinking about her dear, departed parents, Elsa's thoughts are reminded to give praise and thanksgiving—first and foremost—as she falls to her knees in her shimmering skirt in the sand. Her hands were clasped together in deep petition.

_Thank you, Lord. Now I know my time here isn't finished yet. I have a lot of love yet to give._

She sings to the endless blue sky amidst the thousand sparkles of rays of light.

"Thank you!" She waves indiscriminately to the ocean that she had found friends within, though she wasn't aware how or who or when—but now Elsa was no longer afraid of the ocean, for some of its great watery mystery was not as frightening as it was amiably generous and kind and full of unforgettable music.

A song carries her up the sand dunes, and onto the grassy path above.

Now, all Elsa had to do was find help to save Rapunzel and Eugene, Olaf and Pascal, King Olaf's orb and—

Hans, too.

From whatever that evil pirate was up to, and there was only one person left on this earth who she could rely on, through thick and thin, to stand beside her in this crisis, just as before. Everything worked to the good, when sisterly love came together as friends.

And, by Providence, she wasn't too far away. Elsa's eyes light up to see a great big advertisement sign at the end of the long road, reading, with an arrow pointing to the store cabin, just up the hill:

**'Wandering Oaken's Trading Post and Sauna'**

"Sorry, little sister, but I need to ice your honeymoon." Elsa says to the wind on the desolate path, trying to cheer herself up. This sheltered young woman, all on her own, was so in fear for her friends and family and…her new love that she was trembling inside.

Elsa had learned that nervous feeling could be overcome by Anna's prescription for smiles, singing and laughter—all to be found at 'Wandering Oaken's Trading Post and Sauna.'

* * *

><p>And that was exactly what was going on within Mr. Oaken's place of business. Anna and Kristoff had arrived a day or two ago and had been sampling the Sauna's perennially warm hot spring that savvy businessman, Oaken, was cashing in on.<p>

Too bad, after the first night, Kristoff had to say something to rub the big man (big, big man!) the wrong way, about the extra charge for renting a 'Honeymoon Sauna'. Kristoff just didn't see how anything was different that Oaken had changed for the sauna room, save for a sign on the window peep that said either 'In trouble' or 'Out of order' on the reverse side.

The joke of which Kristoff didn't find funny at all.

The end result had Anna and Kristoff laughingly spending the remainder of their paid stay out of the sauna and in the barn only.

"—And stay out! You dare call Oaken a shameless money grubber in his own place?!"

"And just when we were getting to be friends…"

Well, the laughter that Anna found when Kristoff was once again physically kicked out of Oaken's store to land on his bum hard to the stone garden fit that prescription again.

"Here, let me see!" By the time Anna had gotten her big 'baby' of a new grumpy husband into the familiar haystack homey smelling barn haven beside Sven, who was calming chewing his cud, Kristoff was in a better mood.

Especially after Anna quite forcefully wrestles him out of his pants to make sure 'you didn't get cut on those jagged rocks and I'll have to put some medicine on it!' she threatened whilst her frisky little paws were a-wandering.

"Oookay! Backside is all clear." Having a ball by now of embarrassing her new husband, making poor Kristoff lean over as if he were a child, Anna giddily slaps his tight rump, humming away happily as she peeks down into his fully washed, light blue undies, not able to resist a pinch or two on the way out.

"Anna! Stop that!" Kristoff hollers at her incessant playful pinching of any spot on his bare skin, so Sven decides to take his bow (several times a day, the rate this foreplay is going) out the side stall door that the reindeer kicks it tight shut behind him.

"What?!" A giggling Anna feigns innocence as Kristoff turns around to sit on his sore, pinched bottom. Anna was none too gentle a girl and none too shy anymore, either, as she sidles in between his outstretched muscular thigh legs before he could get into a more comfortable position.

She returns to her favorite new hobby of counting each one of his ripped pecs, cobblestone abs and horseshoe obliques along his open chest and abdomen. He had been ready for a sauna bath, but got her giddy digits' shower of love instead.

"Heh he, feistypants, didn't you hear me say it tickles when you do that. Heheh…" Kristoff lifts his arm to scratch his still-sweetly-shy-at-moments head beneath his cap.

He semi-protests her endless enthusiasm over his manly physique as he chuckles with each of her tickles tinkling with his troll crystal necklace that had been their wedding present from Cliff and Bulda, Anna having a matching one.

"Yes." Anna answers, half-heartedly listening. Her count was up to fifteen when he breaks her concentration and she has to start over again.

"One, two…"

With a scoffing, high-pitched laugh, Kristoff was wondering if Anna was trying to turn him on, the slow methodical way she fingered and traced each hard bump on his upper abdomen, breathing a number on it before starting on the next.

But it was working.

"Ahem, hmm…how about some music?" Not that there was something wrong with his testosterone, but Sven had climbed over four hills this morning alone and Kristoff was beginning to wonder if Anna was on some kind of crazy mission to fulfill the kransekake prediction all at once on their two week vacation.

Kristoff reaches over her anxious on all fours form. She rolls over as he picks up his lute guitar and starts to strum it, with a smug smile on his face, for he knew nothing could calm a love frenzied Anna more than a sing-off.

"Yes! I love it when you sing to me!"

As foreseen, Anna scrambles back up and drops back from her blatant fondling of her man to listen to him serenade to her.

"_Anna is better than most people…I can't think of a girl more bright!_  
><em>She's soft and she's sweet and really likes to eat<em>  
><em>And she's mine, today, tomorrow, forever…all right…!<em>"

"Awww…" Anna had a melty face as she kneels before him like an adoring puppy.

"Again! Again!" She cries out in utter childish excitement. Anna always loved it when her papa sang to her, just like this.

_Okay, Papa was wearing more clothes…and didn't have muscles like you…and wasn't blonde at all. He had hair my color! Oh, Papa, I miss you!_

Tears freely spill over from her eyes and onto the hay sprinkled floor she was kneeling on.

"Anna? Was my singing that bad?" Kristoff was getting used to these little emotional outbursts from his dizzy but absolutely lovable girl and he always knew when she needed a—

"Warm hug time, baby." Kristoff's sincere smile on his caring face was more than inviting enough for Anna to crumple like a little girl into his arms, weeping hot tears onto his hairy bare chest.

"Olaf said you needed one of these at least three times a day, right? I don't mind upping it to five warm hugs if you don't, feistypants." Kristoff, a sensitive, big bear-hugger himself, wraps the small girl up until she almost disappears in his larger bodied embrace - along with her sorrows.

And he was glad of it.

"I love you, Olaf!" Anna repeats her childhood chant to the inanimate snowman. Her ditzy mind now wondered how Elsa was doing right about now, if she too was lonely without her sister.

"Uhhh, I would rather you didn't mix me up with the snowman." Kristoff teases in her hair, starting to blow in her ear. Their intimate proximity was at the limit of all he could take about now…

"Elsa?!"

"Now you're calling me your sister? That's weird. Whoa…! Anna, what?!" Kristoff is actually dropped like a bag of coal, to his painfully bumped chin, (as he was coming down for the 'kill' so to speak, heheheh) when his slippery wife slithers out from underneath him (something that would disturb a less confident man, but not solid Kristoff). He protectively jumps to his feet to rush outside and see what had shocked his little firebrand so.

She was nutty enough to rush headlong into any danger, though Kristoff doubted much could go wrong way up here in the peaceful North Valley.

"Anna! Kristoff! I need your help!" Elsa was astride a determined looking Sven, side saddle. He had luckily found her stumbling up the path, barefoot and exhausted.

Elsa cries out to her dearest friend - her baby sister - whom she didn't want to interrupt in her time of happiness and get her involved in this madness but it was all becoming a bit too much for her to bear alone.

_But that's what families are for, after all._

Good-natured Kristoff smiles and waves at Elsa until he realizes how little he was wearing down there, and he then flies back into the barn, quite ashamed.


	12. Chapter 11 - The Other Half of Me

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 11**

**"The Other Half of Me"**

The cell door is forced open and Hans Westergaard's unconscious form is roughly shoved inside by Job, who promptly removes the broad sword and any other item that could be used as a weapon from the secondary cage's former occupant. The old skeletal swordsman crumbles apart under the dark man's harsh actions and the disturbed lifeless skull clatters across the dusty floor to crash into the back of Hans' passed out head as it was residing face down upon the ground.

A growing puddle of his own blood emanates from his whipped and lashed bare back. Job nonetheless coarsely ties a tight knot with a thick rope around Hans' unaware wrists behind his back, equally shackling his flailed out ankles with the same sturdy long cord ensuring his captivity.

But at the moment the young man was far too beaten, battered and bruised to attempt any escape for a long time. Job lets out a heaving sigh as the faint rays of sunlight peering down from the ramp above reveal how much damage his—at Captain Houtebeen's relentlessly cruel and brutal command—fierce whip's punishment had caused, as the blood was still trickling down Hans' slashed back from numerous strikings from the chastising lash.

The Captain, in fury with his slave's betrayal, still had a bit of a soft spot for the wayward boy's usual quiet servitude and fine cooking skills, left it up to Job to decide whether his only other ship's workmate would live or die, after expressly demanding the bloodsoaked beating to "knock out of ze damned boy any fantasized notions of rebellion or silly dreams of a girl's love zat's been lost."

But before Job turns to leave, he takes off the long colorful decorated sash belt from his waist and kneels down to Hans' prone and profusely bleeding back. The big brute of a man gently places the treasured article of clothing from his Caribbean home beneath the injured man's head as a pillow, and he turns Hans' unconscious, still sopping wet face to the side and not face down upon the dirty cell floor.

"Thanks for that, big guy! Personally can't stand to see a fine nose like that being squashed. He~y, what'd the poor beggar do to deserve forty lashes after a dunk in the drink? And what of his lady friend, may I be so bold as to inquire?" Flynn Rider had manfully held his tongue since the moment his attentive, adjusted eyes had glimpsed in the near pitch darkness the hulking first mate carry and drag the slender 'cabin boy' into the brig's opposing cell cage catty-corner to his.

The dripping wet sounds slathering down to the ground in Hans' passed out wake when Job brought him in caused much curiosity on Flynn's behalf as to the reason why he had to speak up.

That and his growing concern for Elsa's safety.

"He defied the Cap'n. Same'll happen to you if you don't do as you're told once we hit land tomorrow. But I'd enjoy ripping your gizzards out even more, Thief." Job threateningly sneers behind his back at Flynn as he slams shut and locks Hans' cell door behind him, all rings of keys now clutched in his large dark hands.

"Now there's a pleasant thought…and the longest sentence I've ever heard you utter yet! Top of the morning to you, too, Friend." Flynn sarcastically retorts. His running off, taunting mouth made it no wonder his 'sparkling personality' was none too popular with anyone, save Rapunzel, who comes flying out of her boiler room hiding place the moment Job's heavy footsteps fade up the ramp from the dank bilge deck.

"Prince Hans!" Rapunzel, without giving her miffed hubby even a '_good morning, my darling'_ greeting or a how-do-you-do, rushes to the singular other cage on the opposite side. She tries to reach the drenched injured man from her side of the iron bars, but her artful fingers were just able to touch the top of his head as she brushes his wet hair back from his closed eyes tenderly.

"'Prince Hans?!' When did this lowly cabin boy get upgraded to a prince, Blondie?" _And why do all women feel the need to caress a passed out man's hair…? _Flynn recalls his little wife's fond fondlings when he was in unconscious peril, once upon a time. _Not that Sideburns over there has the style or rugged good looks of my caliber._

"Hey~! That's enough of the fondling!" Flynn orders, his jealousy rising as Rapunzel scurries around the cage to position herself to be able to delicately dab at Hans' bloody slashed bare back with her handkerchief. She gently pets his soft haired neck for comfort with her other hand.

"Elsa told me his name before. Eugene, he's hurt bad…" She was practically cooing like a mother hen. Flynn marveled at his girl's natural mothering instincts.

That and her new style of dress.

"Whoa…! Blondie, what happened to your boyish pants? That look for you was starting to grow on me. Not that this one isn't working…" From this new angle of her backside, Flynn's eyes were, by now, glued to Rapunzel's rather high pink skin revealing pair of hot, hot shorts.

_That'll be all the rage someday, too…_

"Oh! Yes, Olaf and I have come up with a plan!" With a slightly embarrassed, lower lip bitten smile, she answers distractedly as she carefully begins to minister to Hans' deep wounds with her now thoroughly bloodied hanky.

"Ohhh, great…Everything's gonna be just fine, now. The snowman has fashion sense and a foolproof plan." A disgruntled Flynn rolls his smart aleck eyes to the heavens at the very ridiculous idea of an animated pile of snow deciding his fate.

_And maybe Queenie's, too…Without this guy there to watch out for her, I've gotta get up there and make sure she's safe from those ruthless pirates…_

Worldly man Flynn Rider imagines Elsa's unprotected fate. His eyebrows knit rather grimly at the thought.

"You think so, too, Flynn-er-Eugene?! See, Rapunzel! I told you it would work." Unspoiled by sarcasm, a prattling Olaf chooses this moment to come waddling out to see where his companion had gone. "And if a smart and fast and nimble heroic guy like Flynn-er-Eugene agrees it's a good plan, it'll work for sure!"

Flynn throws his still tightly shackled wrists up in the air in total frustration.

"What will work?!" Flynn wished his hands were free so he could throttle the annoying creature into shutting up. He jars poor, helpful Pascal, busy at work yet again on his locks, as a frazzled Flynn bangs the jammed locks with his handcuffed wrists.

He was more than pleasantly surprised when one pops open from being improperly locked, as if on purpose.

"Well…" Rapunzel turns her head to respond to her dark in-the-dark husband as he immediately goes to work on the multiple locks of the cell door.

"Olaf and I have been constructing a small boat craft from the old broken boiler's metal tub-like container that I used some candlewax and tar that I found around the room to seal any cracks or holes in it. We've been using every bit of fabric scrap we can lay our hands on, hence my deducted pants, to add to some of the rope I swiped from the laundry line in the connecting area over there. It's just Olaf's size and light enough to be buoyant and since he doesn't need air, it will make the perfect escape pod when we lower him over this pirate ship's edge with the length of rope I've woven and we braided together. Once in the water, he can paddle to shore ahead of our arrival with these coal tongs to find help from the authorities there on land." Rapunzel was so wrapped up in her brilliant, imaginative scheme that she almost forgot to take a breath in between each enthusiastic sentence.

Olaf shakes his own head affirmatively up and down the entire time back at Flynn, just as giddy with excitement as Rapunzel was.

"And how exactly are you going to deposit said 'buoyant boatcraft' with our little hero, Olaf, secreted on board, over the ship's top deck ledge - without being spotted?" Flynn didn't enjoy punching pinholes in his adorable love's audacious plan, but someone had to do it.

"Why, Elsa will! You should've seen her at the dock! She's really good, and fast at being all mysterious and covert and—" Rapunzel in all her industrious meanderings within the confines of her boiler room craft workshop suddenly thinks about her cousin's whereabouts. After all, if Prince Hans (whom Elsa had only briefly inferred their past relationship as being "_too painful a memory, it was hard to explain"_, that hopelessly romantic, daydreamer Rapunzel had taken that to mean '_so madly in love I couldn't tell him'_) was down there with them, then poor Elsa was up there alone, with the pirates.

"Where's Elsa?!"

"Where's Elsa?!"

Rapunzel and then a mimicking Olaf cry out concurrently, with sudden panic written on either face when they both realize their fellow musketeer was sorely unaccounted for in their cozy prison brig area.

"She's gone. I lost her…"

Rapunzel snaps her head back around to gaze at the quiet, displaced, emotionless sound coming from the blood encrusted lips of the beaten man lying on the cold, uninviting floor.

"I couldn't protect her. I tried, but I failed her. I am a failure. God forgive me…" It was the distressed, pent up emotion speaking from his once frozen cold heart — now thoroughly melted by his love for this rare beauty of light named Elsa.

Hot, raw tears begin to relentlessly overflow from his dull eyes. The broken man's formerly haughty ego was utterly destroyed. His tormented mind, distraught with hope for second chances dashed, was beyond any mental caring of decorum or male pride as Hans Westerguard, intensely overwrought with self-reproach and self-loathing, for the first time truly in his adult life, breaks down in unmitigated, unchecked tears.

Impassioned, suffering, remorseful tears for a life lost — a beautiful life — the only one life who could bring him to a glimpse of redemption for his past wrongs against herself and her kingdom. In his agonized soul he felt that pure and delicate Queen Elsa's protection and express safety was placed by God under his own menial and worthless care as his ultimate test of penance and forgiveness.

And the unworthy man found himself wholly inadequate to deserve any morsel of pardonable mercy—human or holy—ever again, as rightful consequence for his monumental failure as a gentleman to protect a lady.

_No, an angel. I lost my angel…with the dust of the stars in her eyes…_

_Her lovely eyes I will never be able to beg forgiveness from again…_

"…Elsa…" Rapunzel felt her own heavy-hearted tears stinging her cheeks, as the poor man that her hands through the bars were cradling, was physically wrenching on the cell ground with grief and loss. She did her best to hold onto him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN '**YOU LOST HER'**?!" The quiet is broken by Flynn Rider's usually smooth voice, as it bellows out in furious reprobation at the already wounded man's actions or inactions. Flynn didn't care which caused the tall blonde's demise. The masculine anger surges within his own guilt-ridden heart at knowing the very reason Queen Elsa had been present here onboard this damned pirate ship — was because of him.

And that inner kindness of hers, to let him go and cover up his sorry behind for her cousin Rapunzel's sake—that was only worthy of a genuine, truly regal and majestic queen.

_All my fault…I let you down, too, Queenie…_

Flynn stifles his own tears with his ire at the other man rising with each passing second.

"I couldn't stop him from throwing her overboard. I wasn't good enough to stop him…" Hans was muttering under his tearful breath as Rapunzel strokes his brow as if he were a baby. Her eyes plead back to her husband to show some sympathy for this former 'friend' of Elsa's — for both Rapunzel and Eugene believed him to be someone Elsa had known far too well in her past from the vague way she spoke of him.

But Eugene was not in the mood for pity parties.

"Get away from him, Rapunzel." Flynn growls low as he ceases his incessant animalistic pacing around his cage in sheer anger.

"But, Eugene—!" Tender Rapunzel starts to protest, looking up to see her beloved standing directly behind her, and no longer behind his own cell's bars. His hand was immediately on her shoulder, pulling her away.

"I said to stop mollycoddling this fool!" Yanking her away a bit too roughly, Flynn, somehow in his anger and wrath, had found his focus enough to unlatch every single one of seven locks standing between him and the freedom to beat the living daylights out of this little piece of—

"I'm glad you figured out those locks. Please kill me now. I know I deserve whatever darkness awaits me. A fitting sentence for failing my angel when she needed me most." Hans manages to choke out, encouraging his own demise, aware that the enraged and incensed other man was close enough—and capable enough—to reach strong hands in between cell bars and finish off the sorry existence that ever was Hans Westergaard.

_Maybe my brothers were right to count me as invisible…_

But after a few moments of breathing hard, Eugene Fitzherbert surprises even himself by being a better man than a dozen other princes.

He, for one, with widening eyes, touched by Rapunzel's sweet golden heart, clearly sees the pain of extreme loss plainly visible on the auburn, sideburned face, as brokenhearted Hans closes his eyes, resigned to his ill-fate for all eternity, fully prepared to have his outstretched neck broken by Flynn's rightfully outraged powerful hands.

_I'll not find the other half of me where I'm going…But I deserve where I'm headed. Farewell, my beautiful Snowflake…_

"Maybe…Elsa still needs you to do one last thing in her place. Maybe she needs us both to work together to do it. Then we can kill each other after that. Deal?" Flynn senses Hans' sincere remorse and the extent of emotion he would expect from a forlorn lover, the thought that Elsa once cared for him softens his irate heart . Rather than being the instrument of his doom, Flynn plays the role of the encouraging older brother that Hans never had. He even scruffles Hans' still wet shock of hair with his hand rather than strangle or crack his neck.

"Deal..." Hans faintly responds at the mere mention of Elsa's name. His blood drained body and disturbed consciousness, along with his broken, perplexed and very, very sorrowful heart, finally slips fully away again. Her beautiful eyes followed every thought as his depressed devastated head sinks down to the dirty floor, once again passed out.

"Oh, Eugene, I love you! Thank you…!" Rapunzel jumps up from her sitting in a fetal ball position on a bucket in the corridor to forcefully hug her freed magnanimous guy in gratitude and love for his hidden inner goodness shining through, though the tears for Elsa were still running down her cheeks.

"Oww…" Flynn's stabbing conscience begged to differ as he too indeed feels the sting of his iced, frostbitten arm. It was a vivid reminder of the strong, magic-blessed woman, whom they had just lost. He now wishes the benevolent queen had unleashed all of her powers to do away with this 'underhanded, useless scrap heap' of an orphan boy turned aspiring man who had delusions of being a prince of thieves.

_Queenie, I'll get back your kingdom's St. Olaf orb and stop whatever this monster of a pirate captain has plans to use it for, even if it's the last thing I do. I'll right this mess I made…for you…and those gorgeous gams I'll never have the pleasure of seeing again, Beautiful._

Flynn holds his weeping wife close to his chest, feeling her warm tears soaking straight into his heart.

"She was so young and graceful and good! What am I going to tell Anna?!" Rapunzel whispers to her husband in grief for her gracious and dignified cousin who had undertaken this dangerous adventure without aid from her own countrymen — for their safety.

"Why are you crying, Rapunzel? Isn't having Flynn-er-Eugene out of his cell a happy thing? Isn't he hugging you right? I'm sure Anna would approve — she likes warm hugs from everybody." Olaf, in his naivete, once again with a silly grin up at them, guesses wrongly a woman's reason for tears.

"Olaf, I'm gonna tell you something that'll hurt your feelings, but Elsa would want you to be strong, okay? Promise me, you're not gonna fall apart or anything, okay?" The healing flower who was Rapunzel, extends her golden heart out even for this funny little snowman friend as she kneels to the ground, searching for the right comforting words to inform the simple snowperson of his Queen — no, his childhood friend's — death…

"Elsa's not coming back with us to Arendelle." Rapunzel starts, trying to be gentle.

"Why not?" But in his straightforward, non complex way, Olaf would make it no easy task to do.

"Because she's…she's—" Rapunzel's big watering green eyes dart up to her Eugene's for help here.

"—because sadly, your beautiful lady has met with an unfortunate demise today." With a long sigh, he offers, not scoffing for once at the black balaclava wearing snowman, blinking his dark eyes up at him in artless wonder.

"Ohh, that sounds awful." Olaf comments idly, nodding his head up and down as if in total understanding.

"What does the word 'demise' mean, exactly?" He suddenly asks. Pascal slaps his own intelligent head and rolls his eyes in his shaking, sad now blue scaly head.

"Dead, Olaf. 'Demise' is the polite term for just 'dead'." Flynn answers bluntly. This beating around the bush caused more pain for his little wife's emotional state than necessary.

"Ohhh, okay." Olaf answers with a comprehending smile beneath his carrot to this sobering news.

"Why do you think so?" Olaf adds an extension to his normal query. His eyes were wide and curious up at the frustrated couple and their chameleon, who shakes his head again and turns purple.

"Olaf…I know it's hard to grasp right now. But Elsa has been drowned in the ocean. She's gone." Rapunzel chokes out the end of her regretful comment, and puts her head into Eugene's welcoming chest.

"O-okay. I got it now." Olaf repeats himself as Flynn, Rapunzel and Pascal all wonder at his total lack of sorrowful emotion for his friend and sovereign's loss.

Shaking their heads in passing amazement, the married couple start to move back to be in planning their next strategy without her.

"But if Elsa were dead and gone, so would I be." Olaf concludes succinctly as he begins following them in his normal pleasant waddle.

"Olaf! What did you just say?!" Rapunzel immediately spins around and falls to her knees to be at eye level with the uncomplicated snowman. She shakes his shoulders.

"But if Elsa were dead and gone, so would I be." Olaf literally repeats in all honesty.

"Why?!" Rapunzel, quizzically confused, but a glimmer of hope begins to shine in her green eyes.

"Because Elsa made me with her powers and she has to constantly keep me alive all through the year with those powers." He answers with a knowing smile.

"How?" Flynn questions suspiciously, but he was catching on to the hopeful jive alight in his wife's eyes.

"With my personal snow flurry over my head, of course! It's still there right now. See?" Olaf proudly points above his eye-crossed head.

"Oh! Hood." He pulls off his black hood to reveal the previously hidden cloud, still as yet emanating, steady and strong, snowflakes down over him, to keep the snowman in any weather at a constant below zero temperature all the time.

"So I would just melt if something really happened to Elsa. You guys were just trying to scare me, right? You foreigners!" A condescending Olaf begins babbling and chuckling at their naivete when it came to snowmen and Norway's Queen.

"You guys really don't know anything about Elsa, do you?" Olaf chuckles at their exchanged astonished looks as they wipe tears from their eyes to reveal smiles of hope and joy.

A raucous Flynn lifts a laughing Rapunzel straight off the ground and spins her around in the air before the happy pair settle into one another's delighted embrace at the startling news of Cousin Elsa's 'un-demise.'

"That gal's full of surprises." Flynn says with a proud smile.

"And warm summer magic buried beneath the cool winter ice!" Rapunzel tries to imagine what mystical travels her beautiful, sophisticated, compellingly fascinating pale blonde cousin was experiencing on her journey right now…

* * *

><p>A pale young woman stands trembling with both fear and cold at the edge of her massively impressive exquisite ice palace's balcony. She was alone and shivering and the look on her gorgeous face was filled with hesitant anticipation as she steps out even further on the high ledge, as if to glimpse the tiny, trifling figure drawing imminently nearer beneath her snow capped horizon.<p>

At first small, the singular dashing figure of a man astride a noble Fjord steed looms closer and closer as he races up the icy mountain as fast as the wind could take him to her. Inside his pounding heart, he sensed it was urgent and imperative that he reached the waiting woman quickly and at all costs.

Finally arriving at the glittering ice palace's stately long winding spiral ice staircase entrance, the handsome prince braves the ice whipped cold, gallantly dismounting his whinnying horse, as his own long legs fearlessly leap and bound two and three steps at a time up the dangerously fragile ornate staircase.

_I must hurry! My Queen needs me — my angel of pure light._

The prince, whose determined eyes never strayed from gazing up to his love, runs and races upwards. The sparkle radiating from all around her slender body and in the form of her glorious song, wafts through the thin air down to his adoring ears, inspiring him to forge ahead despite the biting cold and thin atmosphere forcing him to take shallow breaths.

Once atop the long intricate staircase, never once looking back or down to its hundred foot or so drop amidst the endless lofty mountain heights, the prince raises his auburn head to call out to his love, still serenading him with inviting luminous eyes from atop her royal balcony.

"Wait for me, my angel! I'm coming!" His tenor voice was as strong and sure as it had ever been. His flexing muscles then thrust open the large ornate double front doors to the palace, only to find a huge monster wearing a tiny gold crown to greet him inside.

The humongous fifty-foot 'Marshmallow' (as Olaf had so dubbed him) was the formidable snow creature's name who guarded the ice palace. It takes one look at the new intruder to the castle he was created to be protector of, and lets out a momentous, deafening roar of "GET OUT!"

But the courageous prince does not heed the frozen monolith's words. He brandishes his own well-trained broadsword and makes a wide, charging dive straight towards the angry creature's leg, immobilizing it instantly as he severs the snowy appendage completely.

_I feel as if I've done this before…_

His mind swirls with a cloudy memory as the snow monster comes crashing down in the stately ice palace's front anteroom.

But Marshmallow's arms were still attached enough to reach out and physically grab the attacking prince in large, massive hands — attempting to squeeze the life out of him.

Suddenly, the prince musters all his energy to slice and slash his way out of the ice monster's palm — shredding each finger to bits.

But each piece of ice falls to the palace's ice floor with crack after crack until there were so many crevices in the shattered floor that it begins to split apart.

The prince, in his adrenaline pumped fervor for survival, his quick, calculating mind spinning a mile a minute, utilizes the creature's own arm lifted in pain from losing its digits, to climb up it and use his sword to mercilessly behead the snow beast. His swift hands snatch the golden crown from its decapitated head before it tumbles down.

_**FALL! Bang! CRASH!**_

When poor Marshmallow's head is severed from his unsuspecting neck, its final baritone bellowed 'NOOOOOO!" reverberates throughout the entire palace as it rolls into the doors, breaking the delicate frames, ornate rafters and ice beams apart. The icy bodyguard's flailing body brings the remainder of the ice pillars, one by one, down like icy dominoes.

The prince looks around frantically at the destruction he'd caused the once beautiful, pristine, perfectly pure crystal castle. He races up to her balcony and with terrified, maddened eyes, he watches his magnificent angel be struck by icicles shattering from that same ice chandelier again as its translucent falling weight sheers the balcony itself straight off the icy second floor — and the ground disappears right beneath the frightened woman's feet.

She lets out a piercing scream as her hands reach up for him to rescue her.

"Prince Hans!" Elsa helplessly cries out for him, her heart in her hands that slip straight through his as if they were nothing more than an illusion.

Prince Hans rushes to the edge of the shattered crystalline ice palace and sinks to his devastated knees as he watches every piece of its delicate, intricately woven edifice defaced and obliterated at his ruthless hands.

"I've lost you again! Before I was able to tell you how I feel…Everything I touch is always taken away from me, because I annihilate all that is pure and good." He disdainfully sneers in contempt of himself as he gazes down to his hands where Queen Elsa of Arendelle's golden bejeweled crown, that he once desperately desired to possess, was still clutched within.

Though without her, it meant nothing to him anymore. Nothing at all.

But even the golden crown and all it symbolized disintegrates into the painful ethers of his derisory nightmarish delusion in his unconscious state of utter self-blame.

Hans' heart was in free fall now that he believed his Elsa's quintessence forgiveness was lost to him forever.

"Come home to me…_Please…"_ Though his voice is lost in the chasm-less depths that had swallowed his tender new love wholly away from him, there was the faintest glimmer of light sparkling back up at him through the refracting endlessly spiraling snowflakes, offering the lovelorn man an inexplicable other worldly twinkle of hope...

_I need you...Because you are the other half of me..._It was the one burning thought within Prince Hans as his consciousness slowly stirs awake...


	13. Chapter 12 - Mutiny of the Pearl Lady

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 12**

**"Mutiny of the Pearl Lady"**

_**Drip…drip…drip…**_

The gentle snow that had flurried down over Prince Hans' lying prone form whilst he was in a state of unconsciousness begins to melt along his furrowed brow down to the perfectly curved line of his firm jaw.

The wetness begins to cascade along his well-born cheekbones until the snow droplets completely dissolve upon the heat of his tall, sharp nose and long noble chin.

_**Drip…drip…drip…**_

"…Snowflake…" A dazed, depressed Hans whispers a fond diminutive for the woman he'd believed lost, that perhaps he could have cared for even more, as he awakens from a choked, disoriented dream. He is quickly snapped back to cold reality by the chilled particles of icy frost descending over his head.

"Actually, I'm a 'Snowman' or a 'Snowperson' if you like the non-gender personal sound better. I don't mind either."

The nearby voice that pleasantly continues to drone on astounds Hans as his groggy eyes flutter open—not to see a person talking, but rather the self-described 'snowperson' of a creature hovering close over his downed face.

"What manner of magic creature are you?" A wide-eyed Hans emerges from his depression to ask the happily humming snowman, who pauses in his peering down at the unconscious prisoner to return to his industrious weaving and braiding of a long ribboned cord from various patched together fabrics and ropes, with his strangely animated branchlike hands and wooden digits.

"Oh, pshaw! I'm not magic! Elsa made me! Just a working snowman named 'Olaf.'" Busy at his task, Olaf modestly states to Hans' quizzically evaluating eyes. The cogs spin furiously in Hans' intelligently astute head at the sentient being blinking back at him pleasantly.

"Olaf…?" Hans lifts his curious, aching head to stretch painfully beaten and whipped back muscles so he could get a better look at the living and talking and moving snowman close by with the private 'snow flurry' cloud still encompassing his elongated head.

"Queen Elsa made you…? So, if you're still maintained alive—then she yet lives! _Ergh-_!" In his jubilant excitement, Hans attempts to leap to his ecstatic feet as he cries out the realization logical to his swift mind. The immense injuries to his wounded back and shoulder areas cause him to just about be able to sit up instead, as he places dauntless hands around the snowman's rounded upper torso, not flinching at the icy cold touch one bit.

"Where is she?! Can you draw an inference to her location with your ice capabilities? I will go to the ends of the earth to make certain she is safe!" Hans ignores the pain to shake poor Olaf senseless (even more so than usual) in search for a hopeful, positive response to his impassioned, wild-eyed plea.

_**Blink, blink.**_

"Do I draw an 'inference' with a pencil - or a crayon, maybe? What does it look like? I love artwork, and paints, and pastels—aren't I a good artist, Cousin Rapunzel?" Just about managing to keep his head piece attached, Olaf once again diverges on his own amiable tangent, raising his voice to call across the cell and around the corner to where he knew the small girl was diligently making use of her own hands in constructing another ingenious article honed in her new 'workshop' boiler room that Hans had alerted Elsa of, what seemed a lifetime ago.

"Olaf…? Is he awake?" Whispered in a squeak, a brown, short-cropped head peeks out from around the corner. "Remember, Eugene told you to be quiet while he was gone…!" Rapunzel rushes across the brig with the result of her newly finished work still strapped to her. The anxious whisper, as she patters up to berate the loud-mouthed snowman, who promptly zips his mouth shut again pleasantly, told of the intense worry of her harried heart.

"Eugene…?" He intuitively knew that the girl was referring to the man introducing himself as 'Flynn Rider.' But Hans' smooth voice seemed to catch on the name as his eyes begin to ponder under a deeply thoughtful brow.

_Focus, man…_

He shakes his naturally inquisitive subconscious back to return to the more pressing moment at hand.

"Oh, yeah…Eugene's my husband. My name's Rapunzel. I'm Elsa's cousin. Are you feeling a little better…Hans…?" The empathic girl doesn't heed good old Eugene's words herself as Rapunzel recklessly dashes straight into the prisoner's cell where Olaf had carrot lock-picked the final singular padlock her master thief (who was getting too darn used to playing with those blasted hasp and staple chain linked locks) had left to keep the passed out man contained.

In her mind, the scene from just twenty minutes ago replays—how Eugene had handed her his treasured lock pick set that she had been fastidious in learning his tricks of the trade for fun on afternoons spent together in their blissful marital castle life.

'_Just in case, Blondie.'_

Attached to a rather intense, lasting kiss with one last uncertain glance at the other man lying on the cell floor, Eugene had murmured to his doe-eyed wife, who had fearfully trembled at the thought of him going above deck as dusk was falling.

His intent was to first retrieve Arendelle's stolen treasure and vindicate himself in poor Elsa's unseeing eyes, then overpower the Captain and his first mate to commandeer the ship just as the 'Pearl Lady' was to set anchor and they would be taken by surprise.

But since Rapunzel 'technically' didn't have to utilize her newly trained lock picking skills to unlatch the cage that Olaf's carrot had opened for her, the guiltless Rapunzel didn't see much deceitful wrong in disobeying her hubby to this degree.

Besides, she had a back up plan of her own that would involve Elsa's 'ex-lover' as her fertile imagination, bolstered by Eugene's first hand observation of the 'couple's' first reunited, volatile kiss, believed to be face.

"Never mind me. We must disembark from this vessel and locate Queen Elsa whilst halting this pirate in his insidious plot to ravage her country's holy treasures."

"Wow~! You're good! I can see why Elsa likes you!" With a pleased eye up and down Hans' exposed chest, Rapunzel smirks at how ardent and zealous her tall cousin's former love interest still was.

_If she had any idea…_

Hans' eyes glance down sheepishly at her inferred meaning, causing her to think his handsome face cute and sweet all at once.

Rapunzel touches the gauze strips she had applied to his bloodied back earlier, and removes them as she reaches for the roll of first-aid bandages she and Pascal had newly made out of the remainder of Eugene's sliced up shirt.

_I love it when you go all hairy bare-chested…!_

She wraps the kerosene-oil dipped 'ribbons' around another fine specimen of a man's torso.

"Now, this might hurt…" Rapunzel bites her own lip as a non-vocal Olaf aids her in covering Hans' multiple, wide-open back and shoulder wounds with her homemade homeopathic treatment. (Medicine was another venue for filling in her idle, free time when Eugene was sleeping in.)

This spunky Princess may have lost her powers to heal, but the compassion to try to relieve others' pain was undiminished.

Hans grunts manfully as the sugared kerosene and rum tincture seeps into each freshly opened wound. Rapunzel softly hums her familiar chant as she administers both bandages and gentle caresses. Although the music had little effect anymore, it just felt 'right' to sing to make someone in pain feel better.

"As I said, never mind me." Hans finds the wide-eyed, cute woman's mercy for a stranger quite touching, though he was man enough now not to require this degree of mollycoddling.

"Ookay… Eugene thinks the ship is docking soon and was worried the pirates would have more minions on land when we arrive, and he'd lose the chance to get the Orb back. So he's up there now, alone, fighting those pirates. Please…maybe you can help? I have an idea." Rapunzel stops her fussing over the injured man to return her fidgeting fingers to the work she had wrought.

Hefting himself up to his black-booted knees at her feet with a silent prayer for fortitude and uncommon strength, Hans breathes in deeply, imaging a platinum blonde head in his mind, as every bit of his stamina is tested when the man's slim, muscular form rises the rest of the way, to his tall six-foot-one stature proudly with the glisten of a crystal beauty aglow in his chivalrous, determined eyes that could never turn down a lady's request again.

"I am at your service, Madam." Hans gazes with curiosity at the most interesting article in the young woman's poffered hands and just as eager hopeful eyes, pleading up at him.

* * *

><p><em>So, how about that for impeccable timing?!<em>

Flynn Rider inwardly congratulates himself for his fortuitous, sly, unobserved entry into Captain Houtebeen's unoccupied stateroom. The 'former' cunning thief had been lucky enough to just narrowly escape being seen by either the Captain or Job's keen eyes when he surreptitiously snuck onto the cabin deck by ducking into the corridor's shadowy corner as they were heading up to the main deck.

_Now where could that blasted Orb of yours have gotten to, Queenie? I know we copied the map from it, so why would he want it still?_

Eugene's mind was whirring as fast as his slippery hands were rifling through the aged seaman's desk and drawers. His curious digits just graze over a rather interesting item within the pirate desk's hidden wares.

_Damn…! He's probably got the thing in his grimy hands…Well, this'll help, I hope._

Thief Flynn's crafty hands purloin more than one of the desk's contents to stash away in his pants' pockets.

_At least good old Sideburns didn't carve them to shreds like he did my poor shirt! Brrrrr…! It really cools down once the sun starts setting up here in the north!_

Rubbing his hands together, the shirtless man displays his chilled, yet buffed, muscular chest, deducted of his slit open tunic by his ingenious little wife's industrious ideas.

Flynn was by no means a seafaring man. But Flynnigan Rider, the valiant adventurer he once modeled his life after had picked up more than a few pointers on traveling the world and reading the compass—even a nautical one—whose inner ring beneath the bowed out type ball lens operated much the same as a regular land compass. It rather worked off degrees gathered on the hatch marks on it that corresponded to different locations on the nautical map amply displayed across the pirate captain's desk.

After all, using a nautical compass was largely a math problem—subtracting or adding the magnetic north variations to the true north map readings to pinpoint the desired location.

And if nothing else, gold coin collecting Flynn Rider excelled at adding numbers together—especially when it came to adding his money.

Glancing at the nautical map rose's outer ring, Flynn quickly determines which direction was true north and, on swift inspect of the inner ring, it shows him where magnetic north was, on the map that was pinned to the desk with an oh-so-fitting pirate's knife stuck in it.

It was jutting out over the eerie skull and crossbones 'x' marking the approximate spot with the number on the direction variation targeted at that particular due location about 63 degrees latitude east and 10 degrees longitude north.

Flynn quickly multiplies the shift on the chart by the number of years on the map to determine the shift on the current year. His agile mind figures out the course on the map's degrees and hatches outlined on the nautical compass' declination in mere seconds, for the orientation's nearest cardinal direction.

"Okay, here's where the nutty pegleg's heading is, according to that Orb-ie map he drew up. Better write it down for Rapunzel to tell the authorities later, in case…I don't make it."

_**Gulp…**_

Eugene swallows hard as he scribbles down rough map arrows to landmarks as he copies the unfamiliar names of Norwegian towns foreign to his native tongue and sticks the paper downwards, expectantly sure, to which Pascal, who had been secreted in his boot cuff all the while, scurries up Flynn's long, muscular leg to retrieve the paper. With a two fingered salute up at the smirking male, the chameleon rushes back down to his boot cuff hiding place to stash the note before racing back up again.

"You ready then, frog?" The dark brown haired man glances out the corner of his eye to the lizard alighting on his shoulder as Pascal gives him a thumbs-up supportive reply. His bulgy eyes were slit in resolution, while his able tongue was ready and willing as he watches Rapunzel's wedded thief of a lover back his way out the cabin door and slink down the hall towards the main deck's looming darkness…

As Flynn slowly and stealthily creeps up the ramp to the forward deck, he produces from the shirt tied satchel of his 'arsenal' slung around his lower waist and hips—his favorite choice in weaponry. He steels himself in this one-man force, about to commandeer the pirate ship. Flynn recognized that the element of surprise was of the absolute, utmost importance if he alone was to overtake both lunking strongman of a first mate and his well-armed pirate Captain.

_And a little luck never hurt brave hearts or fair ladies…or some catch phrase like that._

But Flynn Rider did not usually possess that particular four letter word.

The shirt he had just stolen from the galley, which he now used as a thin fabric satchel he'd hurriedly tied together after stuffing it chock full of all the knives, forks and weaponable cutlery that he had procured from the kitchen before leaving the below decks for higher adventure above. Of course, it chooses this dislodged sneaky moment to develop a small tear from one of the pointier, steel knives, resulting in a decidedly loud—

_**Clink…chik…CLANG! BANG!**_

Of all the kitchen tableware to come clattering down, announcing poor, unlucky Flynn's attempt at covert arrival, it had to be that one.

"And vat might ye be zinking ye're doing wiz zat frying pan, ye dirty bilge rat?" The old pegleg that Flynn was stealthily trying to sneak up to and subdue with said frying pan, in the dusky darkness of sunset's end curve around the horizon, spins around from the forward helm of the ship's bridge.

"Ohh, yeah! This…! Just checkin' to see if you guys were up for an evening snack! Snack!" Flynn Rider's smooth-talking idea of a 'snack' was more of a 'smack' as he expertly wields his cast iron weapon of choice to trip the aged pirate's long wood leg until both collapsed unceremoniously to the deck plants.

His thieving hands cunningly zero in on precisely where the Orb was hidden in the smelly pirate's upper inside jacket pocket. Eugene ducks his head to the side, just in time, as Pascal lets out a mighty high-pitched squeal directly in his ear, to alert his 'partner' that the more formidable first mate had left his post at the ship's wheel to come barreling towards them, anger and violence to come evident on his dark face, along with a wicked right hook on his fist, that just misses connecting powerfully with Flynn's intended head by mere milliseconds.

"Watch the nose, Big Guy!"

_**Punch! Duck! Pound! Dodge! Punch! Weave!**_

After an intricate series of impressive bobbing and weaving techniques to hold off the mightier, bigger man, Flynn throws his trusty frying pan up with a forward thrust as Job's fist, with now profusely bleeding knuckles, holds back a wince.

"You should just see your fa—!"

The man evolves but never learns. His arrogant taunting mouth foretold his own downfall yet again, as Flynn Rider hears the deafening click of a revolver's hammer dropping so close to his ear that his terrified temple begins throbbing as wild, fearful eyes follow its source.

"Ye make another wrong move, Thief, and me unsteady trigger finger may just shake a wee bit too much for yer skull to stay intact." Captain Houtebeen had managed to get himself up to rejoin the fray. His yellow toothed mouth sneers evilly at a gulping Flynn, as he follows as motioned and lets go of his frying pan, as the pirate slaps it out of his hand.

"Who's moving?" Eugene squeakily taps into his feminine voice yet again. Houtebeen cackles at how yellow-bellied this tall, strapping lad could be in a crisis.

"Too bad. I smelled zere may be ze makings of a pirate in ye. Me haves zis lily-livered lad, Job. Ye get back to anchoring ze Pearl Lady at zat port up yonder."

"Aye, Cap'n." Job obeys, flexing his injured fist directly in front of Flynn's cringing face as the dark-skinned shipman passes by with a snide snicker on his features.

"Now, I'll be takin' back zat St. Olaf's Orb, zat rightfully be mine—since ye stole it fer me, fairly and squarely. Ye ain't p'raps considerin' goin' back on ze rest of ye word of helpin' a poor old seadog on one last adventure, are ye, Rider? Because if ye were recantin,' zen all bargains are off on me side, as well, zen. T'would be a pity for yer precious Prussian parents—I could be sendin' out word through me seabound connections and it'll all be over and done wit in two days' time."

Eugene's widened eyes at the pirate's deadly threat, close again in resigned compliance. Though they weren't his own blood, this orphan boy was taken in by the benevolence of King Thomas and Queen Primrose, Rapunzel's good and kind parents. He couldn't dare put them in any danger if there was anything he could about it with his worthless thieving skills and false reputation.

After all, it was only through his beautiful Rapunzel and her wonderful family that the discarded youth, turned loner man, had found a place to be loved and belong.

_Was that—?_

The gun still trained to head, Eugene's dismayed gaze could've sworn he'd caught the glimmer of a pair of certain green-tinted moonbeams that he was all too familiar with. In restrained silence, they seem to reach out to him across the upper deck in the now pitch dark of night.

He squints, then shakes his head at the same time as he tries not to give away any notice to either pirate, as the ship steers close to the shore.

Keen Pascal's sudden squirreling down Flynn's leg to retrieve the hidden note in his boot cuff, as he leaves his side, signals to the highly anxious Eugene that some new twist to his already unlucky, foiled at commandeering the ship plan was underway, under the cover the moonless night's darkness.

Then, Pascal's big soulful eyes blink up at him twice before he scurries to the opposite end of the pirate ship's deck and disappears into the now super short-haired girl's hands.

Across the way, Rapunzel was about to run to Flynn who was busy giving her warning eyes. She frantically wanted to save him, but a taller, lean figure holds her back in the darkness.

"Does ze cat have ye tongue, boy?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean, yes, I will, absolutely help you." Flynn tries to stall for time and cover up the decided 'splash' sound at the aft of the vessel, confounding the confused pirate with his muddled words as he watches the statuesque shadow across the dark deck place a shushing finger to the smaller figure's lips, before physically lifting her form over the side rail and letting go.

"NOOO!" Though a loaded revolver was being held to his head, there was nothing more frightful to this loving husband than to be helpless in seeing his little wife being tossed over the edge of the ship like a sack of potatoes by a man he knew more and then less about each time he encountered him.

It all had to come down to trust and cohesion in the end, on both men's part, if this crazy scheme was ever going to succeed.

"Well, which is it, Flynn Rider? Make up ye mind before I blow it to kingdom come! Do ye join us willingly or not?" With the ultimatum, Captain Houtebeen gives one final click of the pistol's hammer. It was now totally at his finger's discretion if Eugene Fitzherbert was to live or die on this fateful night…

"Yes! I am one hundred percent READY!" With a deep, bellowing voice, in obvious signal, Flynn cries out so loudly, it disorients both pirate and first mate, who was listening in carefully at the helm.

It seemed Flynn had a partner in crime who, taking his cue, chooses this moment to dash his long legs across the Pearl Lady's deck in a record-setting wink, utilizing speed and momentum combined with innate quick thinking on his feet agility to simultaneously scoop up and hurl yesterday's discarded rutabaga, still on the deck floor, and launch it to directly connect with the back of Job's unaware head. The dark man sinks to the ground in an unceremonious heap, while at the same time, the shadowy figure grasps one of the sharp carving knives his honed years of kitchen skills made him master at wielding, to thrust with precise aim, the blade into the steering column—so exactly embedded in the wooden wheel, it could no longer move freely.

He then sets his gallant sights on the pair of sailing canvas. Hans then climbs up the mast and, with a fearless fluid flip through the air, slices his way down the sail to fully handicap the ship. The plummeting sail canvas deflates as he uses a sharpened grating tool to raze across their roped riggings. The loosened sails and slackened mast abruptly halt the vessel's progress to shore.

"Ha ha! Now the shoe's on the other foot!" As for Eugene, he does his part with flourish. Using the moment's chaotic sail and mast unraveling to yank his own head back to safety, he takes advantage of the pirate's momentary inattention to not only triumphantly use his thieving fingers to clasp around the Orb once again, but also kicks the old pegleg out from beneath the pirate. Houtebeen loses all balance as Flynn ingeniously employs the large piece of shredded sail that fell his way (_that guy sure loves to slice up fabric!) _to wrap around the old pirate like he was a strawberry pastry roll. His bright, flaming red hair stuck out one end with one furious eye just visible when Flynn was done 'mummifying' the dizzy man in the white textile.

"Hah! How's that for some good teamwork! Hey, you and me'll be pretty rich roaming the countryside together, good lookin'! After you take a few more lessons from the expert, you might turn out pretty darn good, kid!" Flynn bolsters himself.

With a salute and suave smirk back down at Eugene, a gracefully athletic Hans begins to descend. His long-legged muscular body comes down from his lofty high-wire act of climbing masts of cutting down the two canvas topsails that he had personally gaff-rigged, once upon a athwart time.

After all, Hans Westergaard's proud service in Denmark's royal navy had taken up most of his earlier life's vocation, until Arendelle and now Queen Elsa appeared in his life—

_**B-B-BANG!**_

The stark, deafening noise in the crackling air, in the pitch darkness was ear-splitting from where Eugene stood on deck. His head snaps around to look down to the origin of that sound with horrified eyes to see the black hearted Captain Houtebeen had not been constrained thoroughly enough in his wrapping. Flynn had forgotten, in his proud haste, to secure the revolver that had been trained on his stupid noggin from the lying prone but facing upwards, elderly pirate's still loaded gun in his secreted beneath the sail hands.

Captain Houtebeen's one good eye had managed to pull off a perfect shot with deadly aim at Hans Westergaard's chest, hitting it accurately right on the mark where his heart would be, beneath all those black bandages.

Everything was in slow motion now for Eugene as he, frozen in shock, watched the lithe, mysterious young man that he had forged some sort of strange affinity for in their short time together and who had come to his aid and rescue just moments before, be struck down by the pirate's unforgiving bullet directly in his bandaged chest.

The man begins his plummet downward from the lofty height of the sail he had scaled from one of the double masts he had been perched upon in the dark of this darkest night…

…as Flynn's hero.

"I'm sorry, kid. We would've been good together." Flynn dashes and dives to catch Hans' thin, though muscular, falling form from hitting the harsh deck.

But the younger man was no longer breathing by the time he had flopped into Flynn's arms. There was blood oozing freshly from his chest, right where his heart would be, beneath the already strapped black bandages around his previous back injuries.

"You patch eyed bas-!" Rocked with raw emotion he couldn't quite explain, Flynn yells out the foul curse, turning to stomp with vengeance on the downed, wrapped up Captain for killing the other man.

But Captain Houtebeen was no longer where Flynn had left him tied up. Neither was Job yet unconscious on the helm's planks, the victim of Hans' expertly hurled vegetable attack.

"Ye'd better do as yer told or the same fate'll befall ye, thief." They weren't there because they were standing directly behind him.

Flynn catches a glimpse of his own frying pan, as Job's strong arm wallops his skull mercilessly with it.

And Flynn sinks to his knees with Hans' lifeless body still clutched in his arms as the world goes dark and swirling about him.


	14. Chapter 13 - Adrift

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 13**

**"Adrift"**

The befreckled orange haired girl closes her eyes hard as she tries to soak in every last ray of sunlight of the waning sunset playing copper tones on her head over this northwest section of her home country of Norway.

She had never traveled this far north before. Heck! She had never traveled much further than Arendelle, save for that fateful journey to bring Elsa home and save their kingdom—their home—from the Eternal Winter of 1849.

And then there was the honeymoon.

Oh! Those glorious five days of wedded bliss, with just herself and Kristoff and Sven (Mostly Kristoff—Sven always wandered off at opportune moments.) that had taken Anna back along the route she and her new husband had first traveled and met and fell in love with one another upon that adventure two years ago—when she had nearly died to save her beloved sister.

And she would do every bit of it over again in a split second, without a single, solitary otherwise thought.

_Ookay, maybe minus the mistakenly falling for that smooth-talker, good looking Mr. Westergaard._

Anna wrinkles her cute little nose at the sour thought of that rotter ne'er do well roiling about in her head.

_What a jerk! Why did I think I liked him?! Why am I even wasting a thought on him now?! He's not a sweetie pie at all, like my big, cuddly bear, Kristoff._

Anna, despite being on her best, most serious behavior, still couldn't hold back a delirious drool for her rugged, muscle-bound fella, as she peeks one shut eye open over the back of his head where he sat in the sled's driver front seat.

_Sigh…Isn't even the back of his head so manly…? And butter-fully gorgeous...? Sigh…_

Princess Anna obviously didn't agree with the trolls here about him being an 'un-manly blonde'.

"Has it been ten minutes yet, Anna?" Elsa's high-pitched, anxious voice belied her impatience to return to her own new adventure that Anna was only made half-aware of the whole story along this day-long trip so far.

Elsa had carefully explained, in much detail, all the ins and outs of the secret mission's goings on — from Eugene's thievery of Arendelle's holy treasures to herself and Rapunzel's disguises as males to board Captain Rustung's Valborg craft, to locating the pirate ship and covertly boarding it — only to be unsanctimoniously thrown off into the ocean where some under the sea magic she couldn't explain saved her life. Every little detail of Rapunzel, Pascal, Olaf, and her own incredible, exciting and dangerous foray on the high seas she told them about as explicitly as she could recall.

Although Kristoff, who was all the while keenly listening from his quiet station as designated sled driver to Elsa's far flung, stimulating tale and a glued to the pulse pounding tale Anna's intrigued peppering of questions, had a sneaking suspicion at each of the queen's stories' exciting twist and turns that a vital piece of the puzzle was being left out.

And that causes him some concern, for as he had personally found out these past two years, living very close quarters to them and visiting every second of day practically, no pair of sisters could be more honest, open or closer with one another than Anna and Elsa of Arendelle.

_I wonder what she's holding back now. And why? I wonder if Anna noticed…_

"Whoa!"

_Guess not._

Kristoff exchanges a glance with quizzical Sven who obeys his driver's 'whoa' command and pauses his trotting ride when a closed eyed Anna out of nowhere, suddenly leaps up to maul a startled Kristoff from the backseat she and Elsa were sharing a lounge back to soak up the last of the sun's warmth for tonight after the thrilling storytime was over.

"Ummm…Nah, it hasn't been ten minutes yet, has it, Kristoff?" Anna had even less sense of time than she had decorum, as even the sinking sunset disagrees with her wacky inner clock.

"It's actually been _twenty_ minutes." Kristoff struggles through Anna's pawing arms around his be-crystaled troll necklace neck as he gives a glance to the watchpiece attached to it that some Swiss Archduke royal had given to he and Anna as a wedding present.

"Anna, I thought I felt the sun no longer on my face." A smirking reprimanding Elsa opens her voluminous eyes, their daily 'sunning' as Anna so dubbed the nutritional Vitamin D rich warmth, for both sisters' body and soul regiments, was long over.

"Oh, yeah. Oops! Sorry, Elsie, but we both needed a proper recharge." As boisterous baby sister Anna snaps open both her smiling eyes up at Kristoff's bemused turned face, she lands a smack lipped kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush deeper than the cranberry to crimson streaks tracing the dusky sky.

She honestly had no idea what her silly name game was doing to her elder sister's heart.

For the last person to call her that affectionate, albeit 'cowlike' diminutive could be in grave danger on that pirate ship, even as she and Anna were speaking frivolously right now.

And that frightening though upset her more greatly than she dared to imagine it would.

"Kristoff, how long until we arrive at the ship's dock?" Her tone all business, Elsa could look Kristoff in the eye now that she was wearing one of Anna's more modest dresses befitting a regal queen, though 'reindeer king' Kristoff had quite a lot to live down in his own disrobed early morning embarrassment.

Without even turning to face her, with pants securely pulled on, the big, burly blonde bashfully blushes before blowing breath between his lips in a low whistle.

"I'd say, at least another full day's travel to get to the far north port of Trondheim. It's almost 200 kilometers north of here. But the Kristiansund port that's not quite so…busy, is only a five hour trip for Sven—maybe even four hours or less if we take off some of the excess weight from the sled." Kristoff calmly states, his ice cutting vocation making it his business to know where the pertinent ports for travel and shipping goods and services along the Norwegian coastline.

"Great! Here you go, Sven." Headstrong Anna jumps up at her husband's words of wisdom, beginning to randomly chuck over the side of the sled some 'excess weight' in the form of wedding presents, clothes, and a great deal of—save for the last remnants of kransekake cake. of course—the remainder of their already dwindled food supplies without a second thought.

"What?! Anna, wait! Our clothes! Oh, not the food supplies, too!" Conservative Kristoff, in total frustration laments his gung-ho wife's thoughtlessness of essential future needs.

"It's all gotta go! Gotta make the sled lighter for Sven." She scoffs in Kristoff's face as he is only able to salvage one bag full of change of clothes.

_Thank goodness this one's got the clean underwear!_

And a day or two of immediate supply of food for now the three of them.

"Don't worry, I kept all of Sven's carrots. We've gotta keep him fully fueled so he can keep going, fast! Step on it, Sven!" Anna calls forward, as the obedient reindeer knew who was boss on this royal ice deliverer's sled by now, Day Five.

"Does this weigh much?" Anna pauses her tossing away anything unnecessary in her inexperienced eyes, chucking valuable ice and mountain climbing tools stored in the back hatch of the official 'Ice Harvester's' sled overboard with abandon, much to Kristoff's head-holding chagrin, to ask Elsa's opinion on his lute guitar.

Elsa was amused at her little sister's feisty personality that would jump recklessly headfirst into any dangerous situation if someone she loved asked her to.

And she loved no person more in this world than her sister—her hero, her forever friend.

Kristoff gives a relieved sigh as Queenly Elsa bestows her shaken head to halt his poor musical instrument's flagrant death sentence disposal out the sled door by the cavalierly heedless girl he now claimed as his headstrong—and at times, foolhardy—wife, who was always impetuously spontaneous in her love for others.

And that's why he loved her all the more.

"Okay, we're pretty emptied out back here, Sven. So move out, big fella. Port Kristiansund, ho!" Crawling over the front seat, and leaning over it like a madwoman with eyes wild, Anna sings out merrily, thoroughly enjoying the taste of adventure again—a bit too much in Kristoff's lovestricken eyes, as holding on for dear life, he gently reaches back to secure Elsa in her backseat with the ingenious new 'strap belt' he invented for Anna's reckless driving, to hold down any poor passengers or precious cargo when his girl was at the helm.

He then physically lifts his enthusiastic new partner who was squirming rebelliously, back over the sled divider she had clambered over, to strap her in the backseat as well at the sled's over 80 kilometers per hour high speed that most other 'delicate' females would cringe in fear at.

Elsa gives Kristoff a wan smile as he turns back to attend to Sven, for both knew that Anna was not one of those females.

For giggling Anna was the type of vibrant girl to embrace every moment—and sparkle in every second of its topsy-turvy path, to make everyone else's world around her shine a little brighter for the journey beside her pure energy as Sven picks up speed.

Elsa shares a grateful smile with her, glad she had finally come to the realization that she couldn't do this on her own. She needed her little sister/best friend more than the very air she breathed.

"Oh!" Losing all that breath, Elsa suddenly clutches at her chest. Her heart, her fingertips frost over at the extreme painful fear gripping her entire body. And it wasn't at all due to Sven's high speed trek.

"Elsa?! Are you all right?" Anna abandons her merry sled tossing overboard madness to, for once, sit down fully in the backseat beside her nearly convulsing sibling, after unstrapping herself. (Poor Kristoff bargained for a disobedient firebrand of a wife, it seemed.)

Anna wraps a protective arm around the paler girl, so struck with cold reverberating from inside her heart that there were puffs of icy smoke emanating from the ice queen's parted mouth, even on this warmest of summer nights.

"Elsa?! What's wrong?! It's okay—I'm here! I'm here! Feel the sun! Feel the sunshine!" Anna hugs her close, rocking Elsa back and forth with her own warmth until Elsa begins to calm down and her temperature begins to normalize.

"I don't know, Anna…but I'm scared. I don't know why. I'm so scared." She answers truthfully on Anna's compassion chest with icy tears forming in her eyes, as the older sibling gains strength and stability from her little sister's innate warmth against whatever cold fear just knocked on her heart's door. Anna hugs her all the tighter.

Glancing back at his rear view at the tender scene of sisterly love, Kristoff silently pulls Sven's reins in that certain way the intelligent reindeer understood to mean to race forward even faster than his already speeding 80 kmph towards their shoreline destination of Kristiansund and whatever chaos awaited them there…

* * *

><p>"Helloooo? Helllooooo?! Hellllllloooooo?! Is anybody out there?" The voice emanating from within the metal aluminum canister bobbing up and down upon the sea's foaming waves was at first unsure and quiet, but it was growing even louder with every bellowed greeting hale from his frosty lips.<p>

"Is anybody out there?! Oh no, no, no! I'm all alone! Boo hoo! 'Nobody loves me…' This is the end…'Nobody loves me at all…'" A crooning Olaf begins to feel claustrophobic in more ways than one as his gainingly full escape pod from his snow flurry was beginning to be less and less buoyant. The need for air was fortunately not an issue, so it was just the weight problem that Cousin Rapunzel did account for by someone having to be there to open the small pod's top hatch and scoop out the excess snow piling up about now.

"Ohh, somebody loves you, little one!" A sweet, melodic voice in her most maternal tone sings out the reply that Olaf had been dejectedly beginning to believe would never come to his frosty ears again. But the rocking waves beneath her small lifeboat that Hans had managed to lower earlier had caused an exhausted up all the anxious night before Rapunzel to be lulled into a sleep on the peaceful waves.

"I'm right here, Olaf. Shhhh! I'll pull you in." Rapunzel utilizes the fabric rope lead she and Olaf had been industriously braiding together for strength and had secured one end to his metal mini craft, while the other end had been tied around Rapunzel's waist as if it were the long braid of hair she had once upon a time ago, again.

She carefully tugs the handmade cord until Olaf's watertight floating device is close enough for her to lift out of the water and into the small lifeboat that Hans had placed her in, with assurances that the two members of the Pearl Lady would neither miss nor seek out the miniscule craft in the darkness.

Besides, he stated he had plans to 'incapacitate' the vessel so they wouldn't be able to give chase, even if it dawned on them to try.

Rapunzel had totally trusted the man with her life and with saving Eugene's life as well because she sensed that Elsa cared deeply for him still, the romanticist in Rapunzel believed. And caring on one side was worth giving a second chance on the other.

_Besides, he has pretty eyes…And a good chest…and a really, really tight backside…_

_Sorry, Eugene!…really…But I _am_ a girl and I couldn't help but notice while I was bandaging him up. I have to say Elsa's got excellent taste in men. I guess that runs in our family._

A dizzy Rapunzel tries to keep her thoughts light and fluffy, like her Eugene does, generally when he was distressed.

_Oh, Eugene! Please be safe! I hope I did the right thing sending Hans to help you. But it's always better to have a friend when you're in trouble, right? _

Her unsure uncertainty was trying to prove her earlier decision and the tall redheaded man's input on her and Olaf's ship departure timing—not to mention his knowledge of the small lifeboat she told him she knew how to row. After all she'd seen Eugene do it so many times at Corona's annual Magic Lantern festival. How hard could it be to row a little boat?

After opening up Olaf's escape pod's secret door—for she was the one who designed it—and his proud ice slurry cloud pops out, Rapunzel shoves her chilled hands in the overlay of snow packed tightly and unburies the little snowman. She lifts him up and up, piece by piece and puts him back together until Olaf was fully reassembled to stand in the lifeboat beside her.

"Okay, Olaf. There's the pirate ship we came from," Rapunzel begins to explain, pointing first to the wobbly masted and canvas shredded Pearl Lady, where they could just make out the two figures scurrying back and forth. Her wishful eyes hoped the rhythmically stumbling redhead was Hans pretending to have developed a limp and Eugene the tall, tall dark one, who seemed to be lifting a third body to toss overboard.

But deep inside, she knew it wasn't them.

_No matter how hard I wish it to be…_

* * *

><p>"Job! It sickens me to look at him. Rid me ship of ze dead body weight of zat damnable double-crossing fool, who took insufferable advantage of Houtebeen's goodly nature one time too many! Me poor, poor Pearl! Did zat bad, naughty klootzak hurt you, me lady?" From the short distance she had managed to row from the disabled pirate ship, Rapunzel could just about make out the ruthless captain's harsh raspy words as they cut through the still, moonless dark of night, while he shouts multilingual curses too foul and course for a princess' shocked ears, even after five years living beside a not always so smooth-tongued Flynn Rider and the oft-visited roughhousing gang at the Snuggly Duckling, full of rugged men's language.<p>

"Curses be upon ye dead rotting corpse, for ze betrayal, ye mangy cur! Davy Jones locker be too good for ye, insolent silk-wrapped swine! Throw him overboard and have done with ze scoundrel!" Houtebeen fiercely yells as he continues to stroke his beleaguered Pearl's handicapped mast and carved up sails.

For her part, Rapunzel, with wide eyes wild with dread, rows as rapidly as she could back towards the adrift vessel at breakneck speed.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n."

Continuing to row blindly towards the ship, Rapunzel watches the dark first mate lift the lifeless man's body over the deck's edge in preparation to toss the traitorous miscreant overboard as per his rapacious Captain's vicious orders.

In those few moments, Rapunzel could've sworn the large Caribbean native named Job directed his big, soulful eyes across the dark waters squarely to connect with hers below in the solitary flicker of the moonlight between the thick cloud cover. There was an inscrutable look of some small degree of—was that compassion?—on his normally foreboding big brute of a man swarthy features.

Rapunzel watches a surprisingly quick thinking Olaf, send his ice flurry cloud to frost coat the small boat's front bow and keel so as to let the wooden craft slice more fluidly through the choppy waters as they near the Pearl Lady's aft side. Job was just about to intentionally drop the young man's still non-moving form not too many nautical yards from where Rapunzel and Olaf were quickly rowing with all synchronized speed.

_**SPLASH!**_

"What of this one?" Job's low baritone could be heard bellowing above, where he prods an unconscious Eugene's gut with the toe of his black leather boot.

"Houtebeen not be done wiz zis bilgeous blackguard yet. Prepare to disembark ze Pearl Lady, Job. Me knows another route to our final destination wizout her, poor lass." Sensitive ears attempt to listen in to the quieter conversation taking place on the ship's main deck, directly above her small craft, as Rapunzel and her snowman partner silently try not to be noticed when they pull the lifeboat alongside the floating facedown body, just tossed from above.

With a tearful, entreated prayer, the brown-haired girl reaches over the boat's edge to flip over the faceless man who was floating on the dark waters surface…

"Oh!" She breathes a tiny sigh of relief when familiar fingers and blurry strained eyes, even in the pitch darkness, sensed and felt it was not her beloved Eugene's body lying there, lifelessly within her shaky grip, as she and Olaf, with Pascal's help, pull him in with the aid of the lasso rope they had disattached from her waist ro go round him.

But her newfound relief was mixed with some anxiety. She hoped her own fanciful scheme worked concerning this other brave man—for all their sakes.

_Please, God, let it have worked! _

Rapunzel literally goes down on her knees and prays, as she'd never prayed before, in the dark of night in this small dinghy craft. Her eyes tightly clamp shut as preparations on the other side of the Pearl Lady were noisily underway.

She and Olaf and Pascal, who had secured the knot around his underarms, with the braided rope, use all of their collective strength to pull in the fortunately slender, lean body of the man onto the bobbing craft.

Rapunzel holds her baited breath for all those terrifying seconds before she could let it out as she places a happy hand over her exuberant lips, so as not to yell out with joy.

"It worked! Oh, Elsa! It worked…! You're gonna be fine!" She whispers gleefully to her invisibly, non present cousin, as Olaf and Pascal exchange 'high threes' and hugs. Rapunzel unwraps Hans Westergaard's tightly tied black bandages to reveal the thick cast iron boiler door hatch that was still strapped firmly to his thin, muscular chest. His athletic build was so lean no one would be the wiser that the man was wearing a 'bullet safe' frontal vest.

The small amount of blood that had been spilt was from the impact of the pirate's revolver discharge on the iron's sharp edges striking Hans' upper chest. But the bullet was so far at a distance, that the velocity traversed was enough to only break the first few epidermal layers of his already beaten and battered torso upon impact.

But it rendered him unconscious from the shock—yet still alive... Rapunzel rubs his bare chest tenderly for circulation and warmth.

"We have to get him back to Elsa. I heard the pirates say they need still need Eugene, so we'll just have to catch up with them later, somehow, I hope."

Right on cue, Pascal produces the quick map that Eugene had drawn up for her.

"Good! We know where they're going. I just have to trust Eugene will be fine on his own."

_You've taught me so much about being strong and independent, Eugene. I have to try hard to be tough and brave...like you always are..._

"Now, I have to focus on our new mission!" She gathers up the oar with a determined look on her face as she peeks around the Pearl Lady's stern to see Job loading the ship's larger 'away' crew boat with supplies and an unconscious Eugene as well.

"The pirates are abandoning their ship and are headed to the shore, so we can't go that way…" Doing everything she can not to scream out his name and race to help him, Rapunzel pulls herself together and away from her own tormented thoughts.

Olaf was luckily able to hang onto her every sparse word without guile or impatience, as he copies her example of petting and dabbing at Hans' unconscious bloody body with his cool numbing touch.

"Olaf, which way did Elsa go? Hans thinks you know." She asks hopefully, biting her lip that that man's instinct about Elsa was right—that Olaf would know which way his queen and friend and creator vanished to.

"Ummm…" Squinting his eyes, Olaf glances around in each compass direction and towards the shore before answering. He puts a licked finger up to the wind and closes his eyes before speaking.

"That way." His eyes sparkle snowflakes as his hands branch out wide towards the southeastern Norwegian sea and a port beyond the horizon as a cool breeze blows that way.

"All right! Then that's the direction we go." Rapunzel smiles at Pascal, trusting the snowman, as Olaf scurries to take the other oar, and skips right over Hans' poor beat-up injured chest that Rapunzel had laid her head scarf over for some small protection against the cool night air and to dissuade the bleeding.

The eternally happy snowman then promptly begins to row and hum a happy tune.

"To sea we go! To sea we go!"

As with a heavy heart, Princess Rapunzel watches with teary eyes the two small boats - one containing herself, Pascal, Olaf, and now Prince Hans, the other holding her Eugene under the thumb of those wicked pirates - within the cover of darkness pull away from one another in entirely different directions towards the unknown future of the murky Northern seas she prayed they'd meet up again beyond its clouded horizon…


	15. Chapter 14 - Row, Row, Row Your Boat

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 14**

**"Row, Row, Row Your Boat"**

Kilometers and kilometers later, Sven finally gets a well deserved chance to catch his breath some three and half hours of nearly running nonstop, with only a few brief pit stops in between. (For water and carrot refueling stops and woodland tinkling for the sled driver that we did not need to hear about.)

His three passengers in varied stages of anxiety, apprehension and adventure, finally arrive at the deserted seaport of Grip at Kristiansund, located in the country's big northwestern section.

The port there was largely a fishing village, due to the fact that most of the municipality existed on a sprawling group of islands and an archipelago called 'Grip.' For hundreds of years, the population of fishermen of this backwater area had been treated as vassals who were forced to sell their ocean catch to inland merchants at fixed prices decided by the higher authorities.

But after the Great Storm Surges of 1635 had knocked out most of the small fishing community's housing and already beleaguered population, even that hard worked way of life on the cold ice fishing archipelago and nearby islands dropped, indeed, to practically nil.

In fact, after the Great Storm, one of the only buildings left standing in the scattered island village, beyond the red and white painted lighthouse towering over the port edge seabound entrance, was the Grip Stave Kirke—Grip's Stave Church, built on the island's highest peak.

Perhaps that was Providential intercedence that it would survive, for, with its single nave that stood only twenty feet high, this Church of Norway's modest Grip Chapel was one of the country's smallest shrines, and proved the Lord God Above smiles equally on the small as well as the large.

But with the sparse population that never returned after the seaside storm's devastation, not even a cemetery could be placed on the sacred church yard. The barren nature of the cold fishing center island nearly below sea level made anything underground, including farming or proper Christian burial of their deceased, impossible.

The dilapidated and weather worn Holy place was still in use in the summer season when every third Sunday, a visiting priest would arrive in the nearly deserted town to still hold Mass and pay his respects to the Lord at the Triptych altar, with its impressive sculptures of the Virgin Mary, Saint Olaf and Saint Maget. They had been gifts to the church from the Netherlands in 1520 after the Archbishop Valkandorf escorted Princess Isabella of Austria in the islands' bad weather to traverse it safely on her to her wedding with Danish King Christian II.

The Grip stave church also contained a small altar cup that dated back to Christianity's earliest days in Norway, placed at the altar near one of the two votive strips of candles. The other candles would sit directly in front of the altar where the three holy statues resided.

It was there, within the rough hewn wooden walls of the storm battered tiny church, under its one worn and leaking steeple, with a devout bowed head in reverence to any of God's holy shrines, Queen Elsa could be found lighting a candle as she humbly kneels to fervently pray for Divine assistance on their journey, as if this stave church were the greatest, most ornate altar in her kingdom.

For in her pure heart, at this moment, it was.

_The Lord said it was the least among us who would inherit the earth and that the smallest mustard seed could move mountains. And if the smallest seed can move mountains, this little church will lift my prayer to Heaven, just as well as any cathedral back home._

"Dear Lord Jesus, may you hold Cousin Rapunzel and Cousin Eugene safe and sound—and Prince Hans, as well. Please keep him in the palm of Your hand." Elsa murmurs her soulful plea with eyes closed tightly in deep deferential worship at the votive candle setting beneath the statues of St. Olaf and the Virgin Mary.

"Elsa? Did I just hear you say…'Han…'?" A confused Anna chooses that inopportune moment to pop up at her praying sister's side.

"…keep them safe in the palm of Your HAND…" Elsa, in all truth, repeats the final sentence of her prayer, making sure that 'hand' sounded like 'Hans'. Her eyes glisten up at Anna, not wanting to cause her little sister any undue concern just yet. Especially none involving a certain auburn red-headed prince who broke her heart, once upon a fairytale ago. Besides, Elsa herself didn't quite know where to place Mr. Westergaard in her own convoluted heart at the moment.

"Oh, okay." All doubts quelled, trusting Anna hugs the back of her kneeling big sister's head to her chest, and plants a sweet kiss atop Elsa's platinum mane.

"Anna, we're in church." Elsa said with a smile. She wasn't as embarrassed as she was teasing of her sister's indomitable spirit and open affection.

"Yup, and God is love! I love you so much, Elsa! I'm really glad you came looking for me when you needed help. We can do anything if we stick together. We'll find Rapunzel and Eugene—I KNOW we will!" Anna boisterously proclaims in rather irreverent tones. In her boundless, reckless energy, she knocks down a row of the votive candles that Elsa had already lighted.

Anna rashes picks one up by the wick end. "Ouchie!" and in spontaneous overreaction, she even whacks poor St Maget's statue on her sainted nose.

"Oops! …Sorry…!" Anna apologizes to the statue as she backs away, clumsily crashing into a few unsuspecting pews that rock unstably between the small kirke's shabby rough hewn walls.

"Can this poor, beat up old church take up much more of my wife before the whole building comes crashing down?" Kristoff Bjorgman's mellow voice seemed to enjoy saying 'my wife' by now, as he enters the somewhat dilapidated and weather worn holy shrine.

"Oh, wow! Looky at this ship! Ohh! And there's another one over there!" But Anna was Anna. She found joy in the little things as well as the big—the simple joys that most people were too jaded to marvel at anymore, much past the resplendent age of eight years old.

"Whoa, there, feisty pants!" Kristoff dashes long strides across the small church's interior to reach his girl when—not 'if'—_when_ she came tumbling down from the rocking pews she was dangerously teetering upon to reach the wooden ship.

"Wouldn't Papa have loved this one?" Anna smiles brightly, though Kristoff could see the emotion for her lost parent's favorite hobby building up behind her moistening eyes.

And it was that same look reflected in Elsa's eyes, as the tall, stately Queen comes over, after resetting the lit candles in the votive strip at the altar (so as not to burn the old church down) to join them.

"Yes, it is a magnificent depiction of a galleon class schooner. Look how detailed its three masts and roped riggings are displayed." Elsa had spent far too many hours in her sheltered youth, alongside a naval father, with an innate love for the sea, for it not to have rubbed off more than a bit of nautical knowledge and ocean traveling fondness on herself.

After all, her sweet papa was made the Admiral of the entire Norwegian fleet the moment he was crowned king, but there was no place nor rank for a woman in the navy, circa 1851 — not even a royal Queen.

_Oh, Papa, I do miss you so!_

Reaching a whimsical, intangible hand towards the model ship hanging from the church's stave cornered low ceiling, Elsa allows her tussled mind this one regretful luxury. She recalls with vivid detail how her always calm, cool and collected patriarch would use his model ship building hobby to help her learn to appease her fears of emerging ice powers. They spent hours of focus on the placid task at hand instead.

She even grew to enjoy setting the rudders and keels and assembling the many layered topsails to their delicate wooden masts—a job that took precision that he entrusted her with. For Elsa and her dear Papa had become closer to one another in the usual way of father and son bonding in the intricate ship building hobby, than had the king of Arendelle had a boy/son.

"Waahhhh!"

As predicted, Anna loses her balance just about now. Kristoff indeed had to flex his ample muscles yet again as he comes to his new bride's pitching forward rescue.

"I gotcha." He proudly proclaims, caressing back her mussed bangs as he cradles Anna's body in the safety of his big bicep arms.

"So, did you find any pirate ship at the dock that's holding Cousin Eugene captive?" Anna, like always, handsprings right back out of her klutzy adventure as she now directs her untamed enthusiasm up at her good looking hubby.

"No, I—"

"Did you go onboard to make sure?"

"No, I just—"

"Did you even ASK anyone if they saw a pirate ship go by here?"

"No, Anna, let me get a word in edgewise, please?" Stoic, even tempered Kristoff tries to hedge his feisty spoken gal off at the pass as he sets her down to the ground and gives her bobbing head a halting pat.

"Oooh." But in Anna's besmitten eyes, the intimate touch—that to Kristoff and the rest of the known world meant 'stop'—to her insatiable love, it meant 'go' as she wraps both arms around his neck, looking up expectantly.

The mountain man smiles at her need to be loved as he lets out a resigned sigh before rewarding her sweet, upturned face with a light kiss, and she giggles.

"Look, there's practically nobody out there at the dock to ask. The whole village is practically deserted, except for a couple of elderly folks up here for the fishing cod season at the main harbor. They say that since the storms hundreds of years back that literally wiped out the town only a few fishermen come up here to the cliffs for drying the cod they catch."

"Oh, poopy! –Sorry, Lord!" Anna apologizes to the double sided painting near the pulpit, showing Jesus and His disciples praying.

"So, where do we go from here?" Elsa calmly asks, though feeling restless inside as she was listening intently to the blonde man's words.

"Well, there's no moon tonight, so it's gotten real dark out there. With all the wolves and other predators out, I figure Sven needs a full rest anyway from that practically nonstop journey he just made. That old couple of the fisherman and his wife I was telling you about offered to put the three of us up for tonight. We can start again along the coast towards the next port further north at Trondheim tomorrow morning, okay?" Responsible Kristoff knew time was of the essence but so was the well-being of his exhausted, hard-working reindeer and the two worried and wearied female travelers he had taken under his wing as well.

"I understand." Elsa concedes graciously her own longing to run and fly as fast as the wind could take her back to that pirate vessel where Rapunzel and Eugene, their friend Pascal and our own Olaf—not to mention Prince Hans of the Southern Isles - were all in need of rescue.

Next time she would not hold her ice back.

"Worrywart!" All newly-wedded still despite the dire circumstances, Anna pops Kristoff's chest with her tiny fists in playful defiance of his protectiveness, to which Kristoff encompasses both fists within just one of his big knuckled ones, along with a pair of patronizing eyes.

"Behave, Flutterbudget." Acting all paternal, he upbraids each of her two orangey pigtail braids with a tender tug each. He pushes her down to sit on one of the church's front pews like a good little girl.

"I trust your judgement, Kristoff." Elsa gives the responsible man a nod.

_I just pray it won't be too late._

Standing at the old style clerestory window overlooking the sea that was in much need of repair that the cool sea air seeps through and Elsa whispers almost inaudibly to the crashing waves surrounding the Grip stave church. Her anxious wandering mind had absolutely no idea how close the hand of the Lord was drawing near to her prayer within that corner posted church that had, through hundreds of years of being storm tossed, torn and battered, survived to stand as a beacon of light much like the Grip lighthouse not too far in Kristiansund port on the cold Norwegian sea…

* * *

><p>As dawn begins to break over the sea line in its brilliant multi-colored shades of burnt siennas, umbers, terra cotta and sinopia hues overtaking the royal purples, violets and indigo blues of night, Rapunzel gives pause for the first time all night to her oar-wielding expedition.<p>

It had been countless hours since she'd been rowing the small boat across the thankfully placid ocean waves once the coming storm that had been threatening her all evening had decided to veer to a more westerly course.

So it left the now clear skies and calm sea below it for clear sailing—or rowing, whichever might apply to your craft.

In anxious haste and blistered hand doggedness, their little boat had made good time in moving some ten to twelve kilometers per hour across the Norwegian Sea.

Rapunzel had no idea how much strain on one's arms, painful hands, and upper body it required to move even a tiny vessel such as this lifeboat through ocean waters towards your destination. She had been following Olaf's internal 'map' so far and fortunately only had to make a few course corrections as they traversed.

The eager snowman's frosted front bow did make for easier maneuvering and his incessant chatter and singing filled the otherwise foreboding darkness, out in the middle of nowhere, with no land to be seen for miles, surrounding the bobbing up and down boat, bearable.

And though, anxious visions of her Eugene's whereabouts and well-being still gnawed at the back of Rapunzel's tensed mind, it also helped to know she wasn't on her own on this crazy mission.

Besides a morale pumping Olaf and an always supportive Pascal to wipe her sweaty brow and wrap her hurt hands on her oar-rowing exertion every now and then, the young woman was grateful for the fourth unexpected passenger on board.

After being tended to and cared for at her word of healing knowledge by able-fingered Pascal, he was about to be awakened by the first glistening rays of sunlight penetrating the dawn's welcome arrival.

_**Cough Cough Cough**_

Hans Westergaard begins to revive from the unconscious state he was put in by first the mutinous battle on the Pearl Lady that resulted in him being shot, to fall from a thirty plus foot height, then tossed overboard another twenty-five feet to the cold ocean below.

All that added misery to his already battered and whipped body from a day or so before certainly gave this heroic young man reason to stay unconscious.

But his heart's drive to seek out the singular point of shining light called 'Queen Elsa' causes his beaten body to strive to find awareness again—even if all seemed grim.

"It's okay! It's okay! I've got you!" Rapunzel pulls her oars in, before carefully maneuvering herself around to kneel at the prone man's choking head, lifting it to her lap.

"Madam, you are too kind." He says, once his coughing quiets.

She smiles down at the classy man's still polite moniker for her, petting his worried brow as he bestows back up upon her one of his dazzling smiles.

"Where are we?"

Smelling the salt of the sea, Hans lifts his upper body up. The unconscious status he had been in seemed to do his recuperating, beaten torso some good as he stretches it in the small craft, as he sits up fully, to look around.

"I have no idea…but Olaf says we're going in the right direction." She bites her lip, though surprises herself at how naturally easy it was to talk to this male virtual stranger with his chest bared, as if she'd known him for a long time.

They both look at Olaf who waves one hand of his three fingers back beneath a goofy, open-mouthed smile.

"Hiya, Prince Hans. Olaf here." From behind Hans' back the snowman reintroduces himself to the man seated in the middle of the boat.

"Please, it's just 'Hans,' Olaf." Hans shows he had learned humility enough to bow his once proud, royal head to the menial snowman, whose black coal eyes were burning a hole in the back of his head.

"All right, JustHans." Olaf's frozen brain suddenly blurts out the question he'd been meaning to ask 'ThisHans' for years. "So why didn't you kiss Anna?"

"Olaf?! Such a question!" A slack-jawed Rapunzel berates the frosty rudeness of her ill-mannered fellow oarsman, then gives an embarrassed toothy grin to Hans to try to mend things.

Silence envelops the now uncomfortable foursome crew of the tiny boat until the man smiles a sad smile, turning to face Olaf.

"I didn't love her, because I was too much in love with myself to know what true love even was." Hans answers honestly with a regretful look on his handsome features.

"Do you know it now?" After a few reflective moments, Rapunzel musters the courage to ask. She sensed a spark between he and Elsa long before she was aware of any previous relationship he may have had with her little sister.

"Yes, I think I do, but I'll never deserve to have that love returned. You have no idea what unforgivable things I've done to that Kingdom." Hans was smiling at her but his olive green eyes were telling another story of painful betrayal and deceit on his part.

"Hey, I think kingdoms don't matter anymore when it comes to hearts forgiving one another — if the love you feel is real this time. Even a criminal can exchange what's false in his heart with the power of love's truth. Maybe he just has to prove that love is really all he's after." Rapunzel calls upon her own romance to speak directly from soulful experience with her adored Eugene, who was willing to sacrifice his own chance to live to gain the freedom of the girl he loved.

"You are a wise woman for your youthful age, Princess Rapunzel." Hans says after he absorbs her deep meaningful words and squeezes her hand gently.

"Thanks." Rapunzel blushes under his pretty eyed kind compliment. Something about those eyes when he lowered his eyelids reminded her of someone precious to her own palpitating heart.

"But these hands have been worked too hard." He surprises her by turning over both of her palms to examine the wrapped blisters from the oars' constant movement on her hands, and the wrists on her lower arms were bulging from strained, overworked veins.

"Oh, well…We have to quickly get help to rescue Eugene…so we kept rowing all night. They're only a bit sore." She bashfully pulls in her thin, exposed vein popping arms and bandaged hands to move back to the oar station at the boat's end to get going again after this brief break.

"Allow me, Madam." Hans halts her in backing up mid-motion, as he stands in the small boat with perfect balance. Being a naval seaman was in his nautical blood he deftly climbs past Rapunzel even as he maneuvers the stunned girl to the middle seat, taking her place as the forward oarsman.

"Are you ready, midshipman Olaf?" Breathing in deeply the fresh salt sea air to fill his lungs, Lieutenant Hans Westergaard takes command of the seafaring craft, with roster of one petite woman, one scrawny lizard (_That is a chameleon, is it not, on her shoulder…?),_ and one three foot tall snowman, and himself as the rowing crew.

Why wouldn't this be the ship the lifelong naval officer would be assigned as his first command?

'_You cannot mock the justice of God, for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.'_

Galations 6:7's New Testament text replays in Hans' once proud, sardonic mind at this humbling commission of the smallest, just barely seaworthy vessel he claims his first command of. Instead now, he just smiles in submission.

"Oooh, I always wanted to be a midshipman! Don't you love the sound of it—Mid-ship-man! I'm a midshipman! It gives me goosepimples—if I had skin, that is! I'd love to think I could be a midshipman covered in goosepimples. Ships ahoy! Ships ahoy! Row, row, row, your boat!" Olaf's jaunty singing starts up again as he quickly picks up the pace when a smiling Hans lifts the pair of oars in Rapunzel's place and begins rowing with his lean, sinewy arms like a seasoned pro.

Her eyes had adjusted now to the emerging sunrise and Rapunzel's hazy gaze believed that the shirtless Hans looked rather dashing rowing the boat with such vigor in the rising sun.

"You were right—Olaf knows where Elsa is...Kind of like a homing beacon… _Yawn!_ Oh! Excuse me! I guess you know Elsa pretty well to have known that_…Big yawn!_ Oh, pardon me!" Rapunzel rubs her cloudy eyes as her sleepy head bobs up and down. She was not as embarrassed as she thought she would be to have rudely and openly yawned in front of this high-class man.

"No need to apologize—you've been up all night rowing hard. You get some rest, your highness. I'll take over now, don't you worry." He assures her in his soft, melodic voice that instills trust in the young woman.

"We'll be following Olaf's southwesterly direction." Hans glances up to the rising sun in the sky to determine its position as to their heading, as any experienced seaman could tell. "Olaf and I will row as swiftly as we can and we'll wake you when we arrive."

"Wow! You're just as smart as you are handsome! Oh! How's that cut on your chest feeling? I had Pascal dab some of that homemade ointment on it that we brought. We wrapped it up to stop the bleeding—I'm so sorry the iron plate still had some sharp edges. I tried my best to file them off, but I guess I missed one." Rapunzel groggily remembers the kind-eyed man's injury she and her chameleon had tended to when he first was pulled aboard.

"I'm fine. Thank you for your ingenious idea. I owe my life to you." It was so cute the way the grown man would shyly look down and blush at her plainspoken flattery.

"I haven't thanked YOU properly for doing what you did back there on the pirate ship for me and Eugene. Thank you, Hans. You probably saved Eugene's life by risking your own." Giving him a smile, Rapunzel sighs dreamily, trying to muster happy thoughts of her cocky, smirking with his trademark stubble in place, good looking husband.

She and Pascal huddle together in a pile in the middle of the lifeboat, using the fabric rope they'd crafted as pillow for her short cropped head that yards and yards of magical hair were no longer present to cushion. She almost immediately drifts into an uneasy sleep against the rolling ocean waves.

* * *

><p>"Eugene…" Rapunzel wakes up with a start some hours later from a perfectly wonderful dream having her strong mate's muscular arms wrapped around her chilled little body.<p>

But he wasn't there and the warmth was only to be attributed to the hot summer sun beating down on her suntanned forehead and freckled nose.

The brown haired princess blinks away her sleepers and sits up to face the young man, who by now, was sweating quite hard from all his exertion of traversing nautical miles ceaselessly.

"I must look a sight." Hans, a dapper man who once prided himself on his agreeable countenance, i.e. sideburns and well coiffed hairstyle, saw reflected in Rapunzel's large eyes, his state of unkemptness. He knew his hair must be askew and his ruddy red face sweaty.

"No, you look fine. Just perspiring from all the hard work. Here, let me…" Rapunzel crawls over to where Prince Hans was still industrious at his rowing with the aid of a tireless Olaf who was entertaining him with endless ocean going ditties.

She wipes the manly sweat dripping from Hans' sunbeaten forehead into his uncomplainingly, blinking back stinging eyes, right down to his sharp, celestial nose. Looking at his extremely comely face, she inexplicably begins to compare his features to her own gorgeous Eugene's, wishing he was here, like he was in the gondola in her dream.

"_Eugene._ You said his name so many times in your sleep. He must be quite a guy to be loved so well by such a lovely lady." Hans says with a little teasing grin and raised eyebrow.

"He's the most wonderful, most amazing, most caring man I've ever met. I love him to bits!" Rapunzel answers, holding back the tears of her heart on her sleeve.

"Then he was lucky, after all. May I tell you a story I've just figured out the end of myself?" Hans continues to row at an impressively steady, nineteen kilometers per hour. His agility and strength increased their voyage's speed by several nautical kilometers than if small girl Rapunzel had still been at the oar.

"Please, do." Rapunzel leans forward in her middle seat, putting her elbows up so her chin could rest while she listened to the man's tale.

"There was once a crown Prince who in his youth had a romantic dalliance with a woman beneath his status, who came from around your neck of the woods—in Prussia. She was said to be a beautiful young woman, a Gypsy dancer with dark striking features and a sense of humor and wit that was just as attractive as her long unruly black hair. Unfortunately, his secret visits to her across the Baltic Sea were not halted by his arranged marriage to a princess of Scottish ancestry, with bright red hair as vivid as the shine of her pure heart—that would've been broken had she known her worldly new husband was still keeping this mistress, and was father to her child. The woman had died when the baby was just two years old. The hardened man had sent that illegitimate boy away to an orphanage to be raised by unknown strangers rather than his father's castle, and the growing number of strapping boys his loving Scotswoman of a Queen filled their home with. One day she discovered a letter from the long passed Gypsy mistress, pleading with the king to take in her son that was half his royal blood, for she was dying. The brave Queen was so utterly good and kind that even on her own deathbed from having one unlucky child too many, she made each of her twelve elder sons promise to one day seek out this poor, discarded lad and treat him like the royal prince and brother he was."

"Oookay…that's a really…nice story." Rapunzel, who was just as much listening to the melodic sound of his voice as to the somewhat sordid tale, and didn't quite put two and two together, until Hans has to plainly reveal the name he would garner her reaction better.

"That missing Prince the king had sent to the orphanage when he was two, some twenty-nine years ago - so that would make him about thirty-one years old today - I think you might know him. His name was Eugene Fitzherbert."

"Eugene?! Wait! This is…crazy! Are you saying Eugene is—!?" Rapunzel suddenly jumps up, to clumsily land back down on all fours on the now wobbly boat.

"I believe your husband is my older half-brother. I felt some affinity with him when we first met, but didn't suspect anything until you said his name was originally 'Eugene' and then everything fell into place. It is 'Eugene _Fitzherbert_' you married, isn't it?" Hans' laser like mind connects all the dots and then some that he'd picked up from bits and pieces in conversation with Eugene himself during their continual sparring along the voyage. "After all, since ancient times, the 'Fitzherbert' surname was one that was generally attached to an illegitimate child of royal lineage, and the name 'Eugene' itself was to be of a man 'high-born'." Hans explains the ins and outs of royal code to the girl whose sad eyes were now sparkling with new wonder.

"So, Eugene is kind of a royal prince of Denmark? How many brothers was that again?" Rapunzel's mind was blown by now. Hans chuckles at the fantastic luck to have met together after all these years, under these incredible circumstances.

"After a fashion…I guess there's fourteen of us now. I'm glad not to be the unlucky number thirteen anymore." Hans answers and his chortle increases when Rapunzel jumps up to glomp him, as he tries to hold tight to his oars from dropping into the sea.

"I can't wait to tell Eugene! I can't wait to meet everyone! Eugene's brothers! That means you're my brother-in-law! I knew you were both too gorgeous not to be related!" She once again makes this man blush with her blatant honesty.

"We've got a big family now! Yes! I love family! You've got to invite them all over to stay with us in Corona, so we can all get acquainted when this is all over!" Rapunzel sings out, deliriously overwhelmed as the hot sun bakes her addled brain a bit.

"Absolutely…" Truly wanting to mean it this time (though, through personal experience, knowing the rest of his brothers would not be very warm to the idea of a fourteenth illegitimate addition to the clan) and not wanting to break her illusion, Hans is quite reminded of another exuberant princess who hungered for a love he couldn't give her.

_Now if her sister on the other hand wanted it…  
>But how could she?! I am dust to her diamonds!<em>

His pleasant smile begins to fade at his dim prospects.

"Move aside, Olaf! Time for you to take a break!"

"Oh, good, my branches were about to snap in two!" The snowman holds out his wooden arms to display their wilting weariness.

"I've got energy to burn now! Eugene is gonna be so excited…I think…" Rapunzel was so enthusiastic for her orphan boy having a real, actual brother-ful family that she didn't have time to think how he'd actually react to the news.

"But we have to save my husband AND your brother first. WOW! We're family! This is so great! Let's go find Elsa asap, then get Eugene back!" Her astonishing speeded up and deliberate rowing impresses Hans as _he_ has to work to keep up with _her_ now.

The pair of oar bearers cut the small boat through the sun reflective waters at an even more quickened, livened pace, inspired by the new revelation of familial bonding that takes the excitedly chattering craft towards their southwesterly goal…


	16. Chapter 15 - Close Encounters

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 15**

**"Close Encounters"**

Another dawn ushers in all the sun's bright vivid colors to contrast the hazy mists lingering over the shoals of the small inlet fishing village of Grip.

Princess Anna of Arendelle is shocked awake by the rhythmic sounds of some unknown thumping bangs just beyond the bedroom window. This morning, curiosity gets the better of her sleepiness as she rubs the sleepers from her eyes to be rewarded with quite a pleasing early morn sight of her fine looking new husband helping the old fisherman, whose home the three travelers were welcomed in last night, chop up some firewood for kindling outside her front row view of the elderly couple's backyard through their cracked smoky windowpane.

Anna was entranced for a few moments to watch her strong strapping blonde flex his rolled up sleeve revealed bicep and tricep muscles in all his axe-wielding glory. She leans on propped up elbows into the window she was adding her drool to with a droopy eyed smile pasted across her delirious face.

"Isn't Kristoff so..._capable_… even in the morning?" Not a morning person herself, though her hardworking guy was generally up with the dawn. Anna murmurs in her incoherent awakening way as her single track mind marvels to find the right term's drawled out meaning to describe the man of her dreams. Babbling, the orangey head unceremoniously plops back down to the small creaky bed of the long vacant children's room the elderly fishing couple furnished herself and Elsa to share, whilst Kristoff had to manly brave a chilly cot on the floor in the outer living space where he offered to tend the waning fire for all this wet island humidity in the small spartan shanty.

"Elsa?" As she peeks one eye open in expectation of a response, Anna felt like that tiny little child again who called her sister's name – only to find her stretching arms reaching for an affectionate 'good morning' greeting hug and snuggle yet again left empty.

"When did you go?" After spending the night like they were little girls again, hugging and giggling and joking to try to cheer her somewhat preoccupied sister who seemed to be disturbed by some undisclosed inner demon she was hiding from her little sis, Anna begins to panic.

Since she came to them two days ago, Elsa was holding something back. _I know it!_ Something heavy on her heart.

_But why? I thought we were past that, Elsa!_

After waiting an impatient few seconds for her big sister to return to the bed (had there merely been a necessity), her sisterly instincts kick in, despite the early morn, as she jumps up to her frozen cold feet to patter about and hurriedly shimmy into her outer clothing strewn on a chair with worry written all over her pretty face as the pounding sounds of the axe continue their foreboding rise and fall outside.

* * *

><p>With a contented smile on his face, Kristoff Bjorgman pauses to wipe the honest sweat from his brow. Sure, it was the middle of Norway's all too short summer, but it was still fairly chilly in this windy and wet archipelago port located some 500 plus km north of Arendelle. The hot moisture trickling down his sweating neck turns instantly chilly with the cold breeze blowing in with the sea tide, but more than accustomed to both stark cold and hard work, this ice harvester was feeling his oats again this morning. He was proud he was able bodied enough to accomplish this little service easily for the sonless elderly couple he had stumbled upon meeting that had kindly taken the three of them in for the night.<p>

Making their hard fought living off the small crop of the fish of the sea, this old couple lived just on the outskirts of the town of Grip, none too far from the stave church where Anna, Elsa, he and Sven had previously visited. When he first encountered them on the road, the crusty old fisherman and his sweet yet overbearing wife kind of reminded Kristoff of Cliff and Bulda in a strange sort of familiar way in how they opened their home up to strangers.

The industrious responsible young man wanted to show his appreciation for putting them up in bed and barn. So when observant eyes saw the nearly depleted woodshed and single log fireplace bin, even an arctic blast could not stop him from doing what the good-hearted lad was raised to know what was right.

_**CHOP! SWING! CHOP!**_

"Whoa there, laddie! Ye've been at it all morning, going foraging in the woodland to garner what few sticks of timber be available. Now don't overwork yeself starting so early in the AM before the sun up, rustling some firewood for me and the Missus. I've been a-meaning to get to it, but me old back argued the point. Thank ye kindly, sir. Ye are a good young fellow, though I would've thought ye'd sleep in with that lovely lil' frisky thing for a new wife ye've got." The raspy, but kind voice of the thin, weatherworn old fisherman cracks out as he brings Kristoff a steaming cup of broth his goodly wife had insisted he deliver to the hardworking boy at thus early 6AM hour.

"Yeah, well…" Kristoff was sweet enough and new enough to the idea of a 'frisky wife' to still blush. "I was seeing to Sven, and noticed your woodbox was empty, so…" Despite being a tough seasoned mountain man, Kristoff still was timid to be praised.

"Ye sure love yer reindeer, eh, young fella? Anyone can see ye've got a special touch when it comes to the animal-kind. There's almost something magical-like about yer perception of a creature's needs." The old man comments as he surveys his own meager work mule and his wife's old dairy cow fed and their stalls cleaned and tended to with fresh laid hay by this big hearted generous stranger.

"I guess I just could always tell when they're hungry or thirsty or need attention of some kind. It's like I can hear them tell me sometimes." Kristoff answers as his one hand reaches into the milking cow's stall and scratches behind her ears where a fierce itch she couldn't have satisfied with cloven hooves is relieved. He pats her gratified neck as the mournful eyed Betsie gives Kristoff a smile he seemed to instinctively pick up on.

"Yep, ye've got the magic touch." The fisherman notes as he follows his now well-fed and gnarled beard trimmed goat into the barn to be dazzled at whole well organized barn that the farm animals were cooing in their new hay beds and neatly stacked wood piles beside the fresh water drawn buckets, full and ready for at least a week's worth of feedings and washings.

"Magic? Hmph…" Kristoff chortles to himself under his breath at the superstitious old geezer, as he lifts his axe high in the air and turns to go back to work splitting the wood asunder–

That's when a recklessly rash pair of arms abruptly wrap around his thick neck as if he were not holding a deadly sharp weapon directly above both their heads in swift preparation to swing and chop –

"Anna! I could have hurt you!" In a rare moment of raising his normally soft voice to her, Kristoff scolds his real little fluff of magic, as, after safely placing the heavy axe down to the ground, he looks his wife in the eye with a thankful crooked smirk, knowing her penchant for luckily just sidestepping out of dangerous situations, though usually at his expense.

But one look on her worried features and lack of her buoyant '_But you didn't_!' response that generally followed many of his safety reprimands, and the big burly man is immediately alarmed.

"You okay?" He grabs both her shoulders in his large hands.

"Elsa's gone!" Her eyes wild with panic, Anna nearly sobs into his chest as he tugs her stumbling form close for comfort.

"Anna—"

"Maybe she was kidnapped in the night! I know I sleep light but somehow, someone must've snuck past!"

"Anna, she's fine."

"That evil pirate must've tracked her down here! Kristoff, we have to call in the Royal Navy! Or the palace guards, but we're way too far away from Arendelle! Elsa, I'm coming!" Fooling herself that she was, by any means, a light sleeper, Anna's wild imagination, spurred on by Elsa's thrilling tales of piracy on the high seas, begins to get the better of her as each nightmarish thought snowballs and snowballs until she was practically frantic for her beloved sister's well-being.

"Anna, calm down." Kristoff, in his placid stoic way, attempts to quell her building fears as he physically holds his struggling girl from wriggling away to race blindly through the foreign tranquil sleepy village in search of her missing royal sibling.

"Anna! Stop it! Listen to me!" After kneeling to the ground to replace her two mixed up left and right shoes on her messy rush to dress feet, the big blonde man must resort to shouting and utilizing his own brute strength to keep hold of his slippery wife with the proclivity to jump to rash conclusions.

"Elsa is fine! She's with Sven. I just took her down to the church to pray, okay? You can see the church from here, see? She's safe and sound. There's no one else there, I checked it out." Kristoff reassures.

"Oh, okay. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Anna pauses to ask sincerely.

"Argh!" An incredulous Kristoff sighs in frustration of how little his Anna paid attention to his words.

"Church, big fella! I could feel like praying this fine morning, too." He turns around to see her fearlessly mount the fisherman's mule (who was fortunately in a good mood for a full tummy) and take off towards the mahogany red small holy building's direction.

"Good morning to you, too, Feisty-pants." Kristoff mumbles under his breath her teased nickname, already aware that Elsa's well-being had a prominent spot in their lives together. And he was fine with that. After all, it was Anna's great love for her sister that brought them to know one another in the first place.

"Oh! Good morning, Husband!" Anna, dangling over the confused mule's neck, manages to get him to do a 180 degree hairpin turn, to come thundering back to land a rather sloppy greeting kiss on Kristoff's unsuspecting mid-motion amused nose.

"You." Kristoff, never competitive with sisterly love to be the afterthought, chuckles as he rubs his bumped and slobbered on facial feature with the back of his hand as he watches his bubbly gal race towards the shoreline astride the wobbly mule.

"Crazy kids in love." The old fisherman's wife had trailed Anna who had tornado-ed through her peaceful abode, both she and her husband in the barn now laughing at the newly-wedded bliss that gave quite an exciting stir to their backwater mundane lives.

* * *

><p>But as the gangly mule's legs trot into the single steeple Grip stave church's front yard, Anna's sharp eyes spy a small unmistakable figure slowly pacing along the beachfront just to the right of the chapel, close on the archipelago where a singular half painted red and half painted white lighthouse stood starkly against the rising sun's craggly shoreline.<p>

"Elsa!" Letting out a big sigh of pent-up relief, Anna was exuberant to catch sight of her sister, as Kristoff said (_See! I was listening!)_ 'Safe and sound' praying _outside_ the church grounds.

Though this weird sense of something thrilling about to happen grips her heart as Anna urges the mule to speed up to meet with the aimlessly wandering on the shore elegant elder sister who seemed to be silently wringing her hands as eyes were gazing out towards the misty sea's horizon as if in longing anticipation.

"Anna! You're here!" The pale blonde appeared both relieved and anxious to see her younger sibling approach on the unsure-footed mule.

The beautiful queen, whose hair was iridescent in the forming sunlight beginning to penetrate the mists to glisten off the ocean waters, was an introvert by nature. And it was very hard to unlearn long years of trying to hide one's feelings.

_Conceal, don't feel._

But these two past wonderful years of living openly alongside Anna, loving alongside Anna, learning alongside Anna—the most warmhearted genuine girl this world has ever known—have taught Elsa of Arendelle to want to at least try to be as open and honest and truthful as well.

She had been wrestling all night with herself for, at first, unintentionally deceiving her little sister—_in a sacred church setting, no less. Forgive me, Lord_—of what—and more importantly—of **whom**—she's been in the intimate company of, and she knew it would disturb Anna to find out about him

"Elsa, what's wrong? Since we've found you, you seem so sad and…distant…and lonely. I thought we were beyond keeping secrets from one another. Can't you tell me?" Anna dismounts the mule when she arrives at the beachfront and skips through the pebbly sand to confront her older sister with her concerns, her eyes pleading, her hands offered.

Elsa pauses before speaking as she allows the ascending sunlight to cascade upon her forehead when she asks the Bringer of the Light for special wisdom and strength to explain the inexplicable to the girl it would hurt the most, the girl she loved the best, wanting always to be honest and true in her words **and** thoughts to her Anna.

Elsa takes a deep breath.

"Anna, what if I told you, while you and Kristoff were away and cousin Rapunzel and I went on this incredible adventure I was telling you about—" Elsa begins bravely, her blue blue eyes trying to steel themselves under Anna's inquisitive melting gaze.

"—that I met someone." She finishes by squeezing Anna's proffered hands in her no longer wringing ones.

"A…man?" Anna's yet innocent (in one sense) eyes bulge out. She was instantly excited for her quiet, sober, reserved sister's first step into romance's beautiful mystery, a quirky smile crossing her lips.

"Yes, Anna. An extraordinary, amazing, good man who heroically rescued me from those wicked pirates." Though she was trying to keep her voice even, the pride in Elsa's high strains seeps through. She was not completely sure herself of her own palpitating heart's footing to admit any budding relationship with Prince Hans, of all men, but Elsa was certain of his gallantry their time together on the pirate ship proved.

She swallows hard, as Anna's big blue-green eyes start to glow with an effervescent enthusiasm for her lonesome sibling. But Elsa had a biting feeling this heartened emotion would soon transform into another, once it was revealed precisely to _whom _the queen's blossoming attentions belonged to.

"Oh! Wow! A shipboard romance, like in a storybook! And here I was worried about you being an old maid queen! What's he like? How old is he? Is he handsome? Does he know you're Queen? When do I meet him?!" In a split second decision to be happy for her Elsie, the spirited young girl starts prattling off curious questions at a million miles an hour rate. Elsa was quite unprepared for this barrage as Anna nearly yanks her arms from their sockets, doing a happy jig around her once believed solitary sibling's new love prospects.

"Anna! Please listen!" Elsa cries out, quite dizzied by now from being swung around the beachfront like a ragdoll in boisterous Anna's jubilant dance.

"I am listening! Oh! What's his name? I bet he's a looker, knowing your good taste!" Anna sings, so glad that her sister's quiet inward mood yesterday was attributed to this pleasant new aspect of their lives as she gives the exasperated older girl a quick hug before Anna catches a glimpse of a family of crabs rushing across the rocks she was happy to share this news with, totally unaware of how uncomfortable she was making this soulful confession for Elsa.

"Anna. I have to explain to you about_ him_." Elsa bites her lip, having no idea it would be this hard – _yes, I did _– her resolve on the verge of waning at reciting the name of the known reviled man who once broke Anna's heart. But somehow her dreams of destiny had a funny way of leading Elsa to believe the same man might be the one to penetrate the frozen cold of her own heart…

She closes her eyes and lets the warm sunlight embolden her courage to say his name aloud.

"Oh, goody! I want to hear everything about him! And how you two met! It must've been so romantic!" Toying giddily with her own imaginary sandcastles, Anna's girlish notions of a romantic first meeting actually paled in comparison to what passionate memories were soaring through Elsa's harrowing thoughts of her shipbound encounters with Hans Westergaard.

And yet…her beating heart was racing in ways she never thought it could at each dreamt of vision of a heroic handsome kind-eyed Prince who made his presence on board that vessel—from the prisoner's brig, to the kitchen galley, to the windblown deck, to their shared bedchamber—so very_ real_ to her every one of her five senses…

The color rising to her cheeks almost achieves the brilliance of the embers of the resplendent golden sunlight as her lips part to speak…

"Oh, Elsa! I've never seen you glow like this! I'm really so happy for you! Maybe you've found your 'Kristoff' on your own adventure, like I did on mine! This is so great! Huh? What's that on the water? A little boat? Someone's waving to us on it!" Never giving Elsa a chance to spit it out, Anna's lively bliss over this new imagined perfect romance is interrupted when she spots out of the corner of her eye the said 'little boat' that was briskly being rowed towards the Grip Lighthouse's welcoming shore.

Elsa, who had been quietly basking in the fresh sunlight's warmth as Anna continued to rattle on, envisions the last time she glimpsed him, her heroic figure, svelte and straight and tall with his open shirt blowing in the sunsetting winds, when her languid eyes suddenly snap open, and she instantly knows—f_eels_—that this wasn't any ordinary little boat.

This was the boat that was coming **for her** with that very same man in her fantasies upon it.

**He** was searching _for her_! And she would be reflected inside his beautiful stunning green eyes again… The thought of that forbidden possibility made Queen Elsa feel an emotion she had never imagined she could be capable of before…

Lightly tread feet carry her intangibly moving body as if a hypnotic trance towards the furthest edge of the shoreline, her involuntary ice prowess allowing her to walk over the splinters of the archipelago as on a silvery white bridge to where the incoming small craft would find first harbor. Each step she took, the nearer the distance between them closed, and Elsa's every nerve ending tingled with the fantasy that he cared enough to come looking for her…

"_Hans_!" Elsa's mouth barely dares to breathe as hands fly to her constricting throat.

_He's hurt! _Her strained eyes first focus upon the rear view of the red-haired head and familiar bare back of the man in the boat that now appeared scarred with the stripes of a whip's harsh lash. After a short of gasp at the unexpected breathtaking sight of the sunlit sweat dazzled bare-skinned perfect shape of each traced and retraced line of his lean back in her guilty mind as Hans doggedly rows, with his finely muscle toned triceps flexing the oars of the lifeboat into the island shore's last few meters, Elsa could clearly make out the deep red streaked cut grooves crisscrossing his now deeply sliced, previously flawless and unblemished well-formed traps, scap and shoulder delts.

As she watches Elsa fly without abandon to the boat's edge as if in a dream, Anna follows her created ice trail, skipping and sliding as she waves furiously at an exhausted yet somewhat relieved looking Rapunzel who was facing the girls as she finishes rowing towards the shore with a joyously bouncing up and down, smug that he was right on the mark, Olaf.

"Elsa! You're alive!" Rapunzel shrieks out simultaneously with the giddy snowman with much happiness as they pull ashore at seeing their missing friend after Elsa had been cruelly tossed overboard into the churning depths of the sea.

Seeing the plain relief and joy on his little rowing crew's faces, Hans smiles, despite his exhaustion and torn ligament pain and spins around, eager to feast his hungry hopeful eyes upon the beautiful lady he had tortured himself for days in the pirate's brig in believing this delicate woman placed in his care had passed from this world—and it was all his own narcissistic ego that endangered her, and lost her to him forever…

"Snowflake… How I prayed for this moment." The sweet diminutive from his dreams slips out of Prince Han's enraptured, stamina-worn mind as his fatigued, already injured body, that had gone above and beyond the call of rowing duty this night to quickly find her with the aid of tenacious Rapunzel and tireless Olaf as able first mate and midshipman at the oars of their happy little craft—was about ready to collapse.

Hans fully turns in heartening optimism of glimpsing the true glowing beauty of the morning, who was Queen Elsa of Arendelle, alive and well…

As he stands, perfectly balanced in the boat to revolve around in one fluid motion, Elsa's pure inspiring look of demure grace amidst the rising sunlight rewards his greedy eyes for just a second or two before—

_**PUNCH!**_

Smack right in his shapely dizzy and dazed, yet pleasantly smiling face, the same right hook pounding punched fist that had bested his poor bloody lip once before, connects with his already punished head again.

Princess Anna, upon seeing the despised and despicable _Prince of the Southern Isles_ stand up in the boat where he obviously was in league with the pirates in kidnapping cousin Rapunzel and Olaf in his evil devious schemes again, reacts swiftly..

"No! Hans!"

Too disturbed to revel _much_ in the intimate proximity of clinging to his bare chest and feeling his raw back muscles under her fingertips, Elsa lunges forward to catch the upper section of redheaded man who was just blindsided by the girl's quick attack, as Rapunzel, still in the boat, grabs hold of his lower legs (_Nice tight calves! Ooh, sorry, Eugene!)_ to steady poor Hans from tumbling overboard into the waters.

"Let me at 'im!" Sweet little Anna could be quite vicious in her enthusiasm for a fight as the vivacious girl coarsely pushes Elsa aside to let go of him and then roughly shoves Hans' now shaky shoulders with both her incensed hands until he tips to the side and Rapunzel can't hold on any longer to his flailing long legs. As he drops over the boat's edge into the shallow drink, Hans' head bashes against the sharp craggly rocks.

"There, I did it! Olaf! Come on, girls! Run!" A triumphant Anna, feeling rather justified and powerful to vanquish her fiercest enemy singlehandedly (_I got this skinny toffee-nosed git covered, Kristoff!) _calls for the victim rescuees she had just freed from the wicked man's clutches, only to find the lot of them rallying around to retrieve the fallen villain from the water and fawn over his now bloodied head from the sharp rocks it smacked hard into.

"He—llo! This is Hans we're talking about here! You remember—liar, cheater, kingdom usuper, attempted murderer, nasty heartbreaker _Prince_ Hans of the Southern…Isles? "

"Guys? Do you even hear what I'm saying?" The shoe uncommonly on the other foot, Anna is quite astounded to be so ignored by her own loving relatives who were more interested in the welfare of **that** guy.

She wonders as both Elsa and Rapunzel, along with faithful Pascal (who had narrowly missed taking a similar swan dive atop Hans' shoulder) and even Olaf—_Traitor!_—all seem to be doting to help the dazed, already tired man recover from the pretty harsh blow to his spinning skull in the shallows as the trio drag him towards the beachfront.

"Elsa! What is going on here?!" A shaking fisted red-faced and angry Anna demands, unable to believe her eyes as she witnesses her reserved and shy sister (especially with men) yank off from her shoulders her own borrowed (from Anna's bag Gerda had packed that had not been tossed, only thanks to conservative Kristoff) Arendelle cloak to wrap around the pounded dizzy man's trembling with cold and weariness, spent body.

"What?!"

Anna sees the way Elsa's caring, once afraid to touch _anybody_ hands impulsively caress the fist injuries to Hans' lower lip and jawbone, softly dabbing at it with a produced handkerchief with as much tenderness as would befit a…

_Lover._

"Elsa. Tell me _**he**_ isn't the '_extraordinary_, _amazing_, _good_ man who_ heroically_ rescued you from the pirates' you were talking about. Elsa! Please tell me it isn't **him**!" With tears in her furious eyes, Anna demands loudly, not caring one wit if "Prince" Hans overheard or not.

"Anna. Please. Not now." An embarrassed and ashamed Elsa, afraid of her growing fears, begins to feel cold ice enshroud her perplexed torn heart even in the broad sunlight due to the emotional upheaval between herself and her sister—her rock, her perpetual sunlight— clouding over in this angst-ridden argument.

"Anna! Stop! I don't know what he did before, but Hans is a good guy now. He's my friend who saved Eugene's life. He's the whole reason Olaf and I even made it here!" Rapunzel rushes back from dragging their little long-suffering lifeboat onto the shoals before it gets washed back to sea unattended.

"Yeah, JustHans is a good bad guy. Or is that a bad good guy? Hmph, I always get mixed up there on the adjectival order of things. Can I get back to you later once I decide?" A chortling Olaf looks up to the pair of girls toothily as he chuckles to himself, all goofy in the consideration.

With a smile at the ditzy snowperson, the brown haired compassionate young woman wraps an understanding forbearing arm around the bewildered Anna as the two females with curious eyes look upon the poignant scene taking place on the wet rocky beachfront.

"Queen Elsa. I've come all this distance to ensure that you were alive and safe and well. Please grant me a smile. I think I deserve that for all my troubles, at least." An emboldened Hans regains a bit of his cheeky senses enough to tease in a whisper the fearful eyed woman on whose lap his wounded head was being cradled.

And Elsa beams her most gorgeous smile down at him in absolute reward.

At witnessing this, a shocked Anna doesn't know what to do as she is filled with overwhelming concern, wild-eyed craziness and total confusion. Fortunately, the one who generally calmed her troublesome three C's arrives to take some of the burden off her tensed shoulders.

"So, look what the tide's washed in. How does that new saying go about 'bad pennies'?" Kristoff must've heard the noisy ruckus as his brain quickly images his spontaneously explosive wife's reaction to re-meeting her abhorred ex-fiance in the flesh.

Literally. Princely Hans may have had a scarred up back, (W_onder who did the honors_? _Remind me to shake his hand_.) but he still seemed to possess a charm for the ladies, two out of three of the 'weaker sex' (_Yeah, sure! Anna is a little toughie!) _mooning over the bare-chested purportedly good-looking scrawny fool.

Kristoff gulps as he surveys the usually dignified Queen Elsa rather presumptively readjust the cloak he saw her wearing herself this morning around the otherwise fairly shirtless man (quite a scandalous thing for 1850s upper crust royal sensibilities Kristoff was glad to only be acquainted with himself) as she dries his dripping wet skin and dark red slicked back hair and moist sideburns with the remainder of her clothing—sleeves, skirt, even her long blonde tresses.

"Okay, I'm not even going to ask how he got in this state." A smirking Kristoff gives Anna a raised brow, yet approving look that softens her rigid stance a bit already.

"Let's get them up to drier ground, up in that lighthouse." Level-headed Kristoff easily hefts the too weak to protest underweight disowned Prince's slim body over his firm shoulder (if only to get him away from the fawning queen, for man of the world Kristoff instinctively already knew Anna's view on the _touchy_ subject) as Anna ushers a drawn-eyed Rapunzel to alight on Sven's comforting back. An eager Olaf (after Sven just mildly misses nabbing his carrot nose in their trademark greeting) happily hops on board the reindeer as well as Anna and Elsa, calling a truce with a sisterly all forgiven hug, both clamor onto the poor fisherman mule's complaining hemming and hawing back.

Once the tired group traverses the hill from the shore front up to the Grip Lighthouse, Hans begins to come to and Kristoff puts him down to the ground on his two unsteady feet so that Elsa boldly drapes his arm over her own pale shoulder for the support and winning smile up at him that Hans is grateful for.

"So, I understand chivalry and ladies in distress and all—but, there must be another reason **you're **here." Kristoff tries to make sense of this most undesirable man's strange reappearance in their lives right now as he quietly addresses him.

"'_The Lord establishes our steps_.' '_And His purposes are always right_.'" A reverent Hans quotes the Good Book before directing his next query up to the taller blonde man. "If I may be so bold?" Hans asks and Kristoff cocks his head with a shrugged acquiescent nod.

Hans then surprises everyone, Anna most of all, as he goes down to his knees, heedless of the sharp rocks, to Anna's shocked feet. Belittling himself as he did with Elsa before, in all humbleness, he takes Anna's at first unwilling hands until she looks from a nodding Kristoff to a hopeful Elsa, as Hans presses his bloodied lips to her palms.

"In these past two years since we last met, I have reflected deeply and have learned the insincere error of my misbegotten ways and fallacious behavior, especially concerning you personally, Anna. I have heartily asked God to forgive my ignoble betrayal of your goodness of innocence and trust in my past contemptuous misuse of your purity of genuine emotion for me. Is it even feasible for me to hope for you to search your gracious soul for some small amount of mercy, Anna?"

Anna's jaw drops at all the big important sounding words of the speech spoken for her as she simply stares down at the once unscrupulous underhanded man whose large green puppy dog eyes up at her were all vulnerable and hopeful, with not a trace of the artful calculating craftiness she knew him to be capable of that she was suspiciously looking for.

But Hans' eyes were only full of redemptive sorrow and apologetic sincerity. Anna's own wide eyes, not wanting to be tricked again, go from Hans to Kristoff to Rapunzel and then back to Hans, after a long stare at Elsa's emotive eyes.

"I…guess I can try." Anna finally relents to everyone's relieved sigh.

"But mainly because I'm a good Christian girl. In the Lord's Prayer, Jesus himself told us '_to forgive others who have sinned against us_'. So that means jerks like you, but only if you're **REALLY SORRY** for what you've done to us." Anna stresses the words in bold.

"You remember your prayers, Anna." Elsa proudly whispers, she always having to drill the memorization part of their faith into her forgetful little sister's head when they were tiny, though she needn't have worried for the true lessons ingrained on Anna's sweet soul.

"And that's **Princess** Anna to you, Mister." Turning back with the sore point to face him, the 'sweet' little girl puts the man who had wronged her in the past, no matter how contrite he may be now, in his rightful place. Mercy or no, _Princess_ Anna no longer wished to be on first name familiar terms with that loser.

"No funny business! I heard you did some great things but I haven't seen anything myself yet. So, you're on trial from now on! I'll be watching you with eyes in the back of my head. You'd better be that '_amazing, heroic,_ _good man'_ to Elsa or so help me, I'll—I'll have my Kristoff wipe the floor with your sorry behind!"

Giving Hans a withering look in warning, Anna threatens, trying to sound like the tough guy she was pretending to portray. Her truly good heart wanted to forgive more than her stubborn unyielding mind would permit right at the moment as she pokes the kneeling to the ground Hans' forehead with a harshly pointed finger boring into his skull.

"You heard the lady, pal." Kristoff reiterates his tiny wife's threat, his own pounded fist into the other hand visually displayed an alternative less palatable fate, for Kristoff was just as uncertain of this new entrant to their little rescue party as Anna of the man's true ulterior motives concerning Elsa.

He wouldn't admit it, but it _was_ a comfort to Kristoff to have another man involved in this dangerous secret mission with him as they were about to enter some treacherous hungry wolf, wandering bandit and other unsavory wild animal laden roads amidst all these vulnerable females.

Although, the experienced mountain man wished it could've been anyone else than his former rival, as he signals Anna to get them into the shelter of the Grip lighthouse.

"Here, let me get the door for you, Hans." With not many hard feelings _really_, Anna 'accidentally' (or was it on purpose?) throws the lighthouse door open a bit too wide, it knocking into Han's already bruised chin and jaw, to gain a pained grunt from him.

"Oof!"

"Anna!" Elsa couldn't believe after all that soul searching she still had to reprimand her wayward little sis on the morals of forgiveness.

"Oh, sorry. I suppose I'm not that good at _opening doors_ for you anymore." Anna pointedly gets one last jab in of their big romantic song and dance once upon a time right in his face as she gets to vent her retreating vengeance in little ways.

"Ladies first." She smiles saucily and huffily saunters past him into the lighthouse.

"Forgive her?" Elsa apologetically smiles up at him, getting that warm feeling just to be present at his affable side again that quite disturbs her reserved heart—in a good way.

"Without a second thought. I deserved it. And you need never say such words to me. After all, it is I who requires _her_ forgiveness. A woman's wrath is never quickly dissuaded. And rightly so. I am the one to take it on the chin, so to speak." Hans rubs his bashed in long noble chin with a droll air of resignation, causing Elsa to indeed grant him that special smile he's been waiting all his life for…

* * *

><p>…"I believe it is always wise to listen carefully to what the fairer sex has to say." As Rapunzel delivers to him a steaming cup of hot coffee, an intuitive Hans senses her deep worry for her husband and his brother, and he gives his rowing partner Rapunzel an encouraging grateful smile, to which she tries to return, meeting his kind eyes before going back.<p>

As he and Kristoff seriously discuss their next stratagem and traveling route logistics of entering some rugged unchartered territory by the open land, Hans seemed to reclaim some of his more characteristic well-bred bravado when conversing with another male as he stands up straight and tall to stretch the gorgeous yet aching arch of his stiff back from all those long hours of sitting in the small boat under the strenuous rowing conditions, mostly on his shoulders.

But even the cuts, bruises, muscle pulls and scarred pains he'd endured these past few days were a welcome blessing to be able to feel alive in a world _she_ was in too, as Han's eager eyes gaze across the small lighthouse cove to where the three lovely ladies sat around the table they managed between the three of them to fill with nourishing food and drink. They were being entertained by Olaf's vivid retelling of his own recent heroic endeavors on naval frigates, dark mysterious ports, and pirate ships alike. The snowman didn't leave out much detail of their 200 km seabound journey's conversational revelations either, Olaf proving to be a grand gossip with a good auditory memory of every word he overheard.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! Back up there, Olaf! If Eugene is Hans' half brother, and Eugene's our cousin because you've gone and married him, Rapunzel—then that MEANS HANS WESTERGAARD IS PART OF OUR FAMILY, too?! You mean he can come to Christmas dinner?! No way! That's so wrong!" Anna nearly spits up the hot chocolate she had been guzzling that Elsa had rustled up for the group from the lighthouse's well-stocked stores ready to welcome any weary ocean travelers stopping by.

"Yep! Isn't discovering your family roots a fun thing! Maybe **I'll** find out that big 'ole Marshmallow is my long lost great uncle twice removed. Isn't it a small, small world where we laugh and play?" Olaf starts singing as he rattles off in his happy nonsense concerning family trees, much to Anna's disdain, Rapunzel's anxiety, and Elsa's keen interest that, as he collects his own coffee, Kristoff notices the way the queen's eyes gloss over as they float towards this new red-headed companion who was drying off the back of his soaked trousers, still on him, near the fire stove.

Returning to the stove, the two like-aged men share a companionable silence, though Hans' stare often sneaks to similarly land his gaze upon lovely Elsa in much the same way as she was looking across at her ideal man.

"A-hem." Hans suddenly notices a smug Kristoff noticing him noticing Elsa as Hans clears his throat in covered up embarrassment.

"How quickly can we travel to Trondheim by land did you say, sir?" His cunning mind was still tenacious in his resolve to, first and foremost, save brother Eugene from the pirate's clutches, thwart the evil pirate's plan, whatever it may be, in doing so whilst still retrieving Arendelle's holy treasures from being used for the pirate's wicked unknown purposes, if it took everything he had to do it.

"About a full 2 days' worth of travel, maybe a little more with so many more passengers for Sven alone. Maybe I can pick up a bigger sled and another reindeer for a two team sleigh…There's seven of us now, right?"

"Actually, eight. But my invaluable little friend here doesn't weigh much. Do you, Pascal?" The man's gallant chivalrous manner appealed to the chameleon who was usually accustomed to the less _congenial_ company of Flynn Rider, who still called him a 'frog' to flick off the shoulder as Pascal listens in on the men's serious conversation planning to rescue the thieving rascal he honestly missed the jaunty joking attitude of, as Pascal turns a proud shade of brown on Hans' forearm.

Hans was beginning to enjoy having little companionable friends like Pascal and Olaf around. He missed his noble steed Sitron these past two years more than his well bred supposed to be detached and stoic sanity wished to admit.

_But who needs sanity anymore? _Hans runs his hands through his damp sideburns as eyes travel across the lighthouse to where the uncanny Olaf was still comically entertaining a giggling despite herself Anna, to connect with Elsa's eyes. Then both fix their mingled worried gazes upon the young woman pensively silent in the corner as she pretends to sleep on the bench.

But both knew she was weeping inside for the quiet hidden tears running endlessly down her scrunched up face in anxiety for the love of her life in some obscured danger beyond her reach…

"We will get him back alive. I promised we'd bring him home to her. And a gentleman's word—" The noble born man begins to vow Eugene's successful rescue for the tears of a loving woman in low tones aloud.

"—is his bond." Kristoff's innate goodness, not to mention Bulda and Cliff and growing up with his Troll family taught him every bit as well of honor and valor as any higher education military academy offered.

With a shared nod, Hans' passionate resolve on Eugene's behalf for Rapunzel's sake touches family man Kristoff. That little bit of empathic compassion pushes most of Kristoff's doubts aside as he decides to cautiously share Elsa's trust of this reformed villain.

So that only left Anna's trust to win.

Or lose, along this unpredictable fateful journey where life and death and destiny itself hangs in the balance of alliances forged...


	17. Chapter 16-In a One Reindeer Open Sleigh

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 16**

**"In a One Reindeer Open Sleigh"**

With Prince Hans' logical input on the matter considered, it was decided that having two modes of transportation would be 'more advantageous' as the lofty-worded naval officer had described. Knowing these trade routes like the back of his mittened hands from his ice-harvesting business expertise, Kristoff and an overworked Sven pull into a workman's trading post just a few kilometers beyond Grip's closest archipelago jump to Kristiansund port.

"Okay, we're here. I'll go see if Torvik has a reindeer ready sleigh available. Everybody stay with Sven." Cool Kristoff surveys from the corner of his eye how…cozy…some of the cramped passengers seemed to have been enjoying the ride thus far. It was obvious from the way his little wife's silently bristling face was scrunched up in disdain at how her sweet, innocent formerly standoffish-to-men sister, Elsa, had somehow discreetly made her way in the sleigh's backseat to nearly _**sit **_on the lap of one uncomplaining Prince Hans, who appeared rather comfortable with the arrangement from the smug look on his pleased mug.

A quiet cousin Rapunzel was seated next to Elsa back there, with a squirming Pascal and bouncing Olaf on her knee. The simple snowman was excited to see the new sights, with his mouth rattling off at practically every bump and turn of poor Sven's overfilled sled.

Anna pounds a protesting fist yet again on the unsuspecting luggage that just _**had**_ to be piled between her and Kristoff in the front sled seat row. It was so high she could barely see over it's mound of supplies and baskets of food that the old fisherman and his wife, though they had little, gave much, as the Bible instructs us all of generosity's reward in Heaven someday.

But right now, Princess Anna surely didn't feel rewarded. All through the mid-afternoon ride, she had been constantly arching her aching neck over the parcels to see exactly what was going on with the backseat's occupants. It was a little too quiet (beyond Olaf's endless wagging tongue) for her protective taste, and now with Kristoff gone from the driver's seat, a grumbling Anna is able to topple over a few of the supply and food baskets so she could garner a better view.

And it was just in time to watch Hans, rather at liberty, tenderly lift Elsa's perched body from her comfortable leaning resting place on his shoulder and chest, to alight from the vehicle.

"I'll be back, my Sleeping Beauty." He boldly whispers the fairy tale alluded tease directly in the queen's groggily slumbering ear so only she could hear.

"Oh! Did I fall asleep? Please excuse me." An embarrassed awakening Elsa didn't sleep much the previous night, for worry, and somehow had felt safe and warm here in Sven's swaying back and forth sled ride enough to doze off.

But she had no idea Prince Hans' welcome chest would be her headrest pillow! _How did my head get **there** and how **long** was I there?_ The demure shy Queen blushes intensely at the shameful thought as she sits up, straightening her rumpled dress to regain some level of sensible decorum.

"Hey! Kristoff said to—Oh, never mind! You can get out and stay out for all I care!" Anna inhospitably yells out after the tall, thin man departs once he lifts his long legs over the sled's edge to disappear around the corner where Kristoff had gone reindeer hunting in the rear of the outpost sled yard.

"Anna! I thought you said you were going to forgive Hans." A chastising Rapunzel, her rowing mate's finest advocate, defends the dashing red-headed figure as he moves just out of earshot.

"I said I was gonna '**_try._**' That's different from actually doing it." Anna retorts. Just watching that guy wear their signature grey Arendelle cloak coat again maddened her to some degree. She turns to her sister.

"Elsa? I don't want you to be so darn chummy with him. Didn't I split you two up on opposite sides of the sleigh? What happened to that, Rapunzel? Huh?! You were supposed to sit between them!" A seething, whispered Anna questions her elder cousin.

"We~ll…I felt rather ill a while back, and needed to…you know…over the side. I think I'll be needing to do that a lot if the roads are this bumpy." The green-around-the-gills, rather red in the face with her stomach turned young woman answers Anna's inquisition with all honest innocence as she places a halting hand over her mouth once again with a gag.

"Don't worry! I didn't get hit! See, still _Snow White_, heigh ho! I always wanted to say that, hee hee." Olaf sings in his happy way, branch hands displaying his pristine whiteness proudly.

"Oh." Was Anna's only response as her anger is deflated at her inexplicably sickly ill relation. With a frustrated sigh, Anna turns back in her seat with a pout and rolls her eyes.

_Well, this is all stupid Cousin Eugene's fault! And now Hans is his brother?! Those jerks are two of a kind! …Anyway, I hope we find him safe for Rapunzel's sake._

Anna's spinning, addled brain burns the non-present former thief for being at the root of this unsavory road trip, (Among other queasy, sickening problems for Rapunzel that he could be rightfully blamed for.) that facilitated his new little brother, one Hans Westergaard, to climb aboard their once happy and contented ride through life. A silently steaming and thoroughly exasperated Anna throws her hands up in the air in the front seat.

* * *

><p>"So, Torvik, is this sorry yearling the only reindeer ya got on you?" After taking a quick look around the trading outpost's back barn offerings, the reindeer expert in Kristoff Bjorgman was not at all impressed.<p>

Beside the singular, knobbly-legged young reindeer cross-eyed buck that was not yet harness broken in, the remainder of the stalls that were usually brimming full of active and robust large antlered reindeer were literally vacant.

"Yah, many pardons, my young friend. But the ice herders already cleared Old Torvik out this season, a few weeks' back. The price of feed and the economy has been hard on reindeer sales this year. Sooo, big-hearted man I am, I gave them a bulk-rate deal that they snapped up to get ready for the early winter that's predicted to be a doozy! Yoo-whoo!" The wide, large-bodied, aging trader whacks the cud-chewing, knock-kneed reindeer on the rump with his playful call. The poor beastie leapt into the air to nearly fall back down on his collapsing, weak knees.

"All except this derpy, wee fellow, that is. But you can have him at a very good price. He's a happy thing." The middle Norwegian inlet bay peasant pulls the beleaguered creature's mouth into a toothy smile to match his own. The thick-accented shopkeeper's ever-present smile isn't fazed at all by Kristoff's big frown as his sale's pitch to this rare customer continues on.

"But if you're not interested in him, we also have a wide variety of sleds available, as you can see, out in the yard. Vis-à-vis, cutters, those newfangled bobsleds—if I can direct your eyes over to some modern models that are really nice, well-made, and only slightly upgraded by myself. Whoo-hee! Just look at how large and luxurious that hard top brougham closed carriage model and it's spoke wheels, I imported all the way from Oslo! Oh! And here is a nifty one! Totally enclosed! I obtained it from some comrade, claiming to be Siberian, brought all the way from Russia! I gave him a super deal on a matched team of Fjord draught horses in trade." Trader Torvik pauses before a large wooden box on thick, heavy duty runners that was completely enclosed, save for holes in front for the reins to pass through.

The sturdy frame that must've been built to withstand heavy snows in the deep, more Arctic northerly regions was like a little cabin room with several small tiny windows and even a small furnace inside this Vozok dark, protected interior.

"Wow. This could come in handy for a private honeymoon trip…Ah, ahem…" Kristoff's young male hormones seem to have an imagination all their own as he peers from the lifted top down into the cozy living quarters hidden within this rather intriguing new Vozok sleigh that his expert eyes had never glimpsed before.

"…No, Torvik, I'm only interested in a reasonably priced, plain shaft and yoke double runner sled." Kristoff recovers his all-business, conservative with hard-earned money persona as he slams the inviting lid back down.

"Whoo-hoo! Greetings to you over there, young man! Torvik vill be right there!" But old Torvik's selling attention focuses away from an uncooperative Kristoff over to the tall, stately man who appears in the horse stables, inspecting each of the horses' teeth and hooves, as if he was an equestrian expert.

_And he looks to be high-class and rich one, at that! Skillings, skillings, skillings! Speciedalers coming my way!_

Torvik could already hear the sound of silver and bronze clinking into his grubby hands.

"We have a wide variety of fine, well-bred steeds here at Touring Torvik's Trading Post! Woo-hoo!" He drops well known 'cheapskate' Bjorgman like a sack of furry moldy potatoes for this Providential newcomer's potention likelihood and sale possibility.

"Hey! I was talking to you first." Kristoff complains, having an itchy feeling this oozing charm affluent guy could mean trouble for his wheeling and dealing wallet.

"Ah, yes, hello, sir. I've been admiring the muscular builds and willing temperaments of these competent horses. I can clearly see these Norwegian Dolahest and Friesians are both quite strong and elegant, though their coats would all benefit from a fresh grooming as well as a good rubbing down."

"Certainly! Of course! Torvik does all the grooming personally, like clockwork, every morning! I just missed today, on account of a little cold. Ah-choo."

"Yes, the attention would be much appreciated, wouldn't it, my dear…Iriserende?" From the way Hans was stroking the just traded in, grateful eyed, much ignored pure white mare's neck where a name tag hung, one could see how much the equine-loving horseman missed pampering his own steed.

"I think you'll have to wake up a bit earlier then, Torvik. This strong little fellow says he hasn't been fed in two days. And didn't I tell you to stay in the sled, mister?" Kristoff moves his address from Torvik to Hans as enters the trader's barn as he sticks his own large hands through the wooden stall bars to scrub and pat the whinnying Dolahest draft horse's back, after scooping a handful of oats from a pail up to the creature's drooling muzzle.

Ignoring his own reprimand, Hans' green eyes turn to narrow on Kristoff in new curiosity.

"And that snowy lady you've got there needs a tender scratch behind her ears." Kristoff advises, and a bewildered Hans immediately does as instructed. The sleek, alabaster coated mare's highly gratified whinny, under his touch, mystifies Hans.

"You know your beasts." He smiles at Kristoff with a raised eyebrow, to which the taller man only offers a self-satisfied shrug.

"Now look, Torvik. We don't want **any** horses. They're too high upkeep. Is there anyone in Kristiansund willing to sell their own reindeer if I buy a sled off you?"

"But your friend here has his eye on this special rare one-of-a-kind pure white albino beauty, just come in from the far north." After launching his best sales pitch to an intrigued wide-eyed Hans and an unimpressed scoffing Kristoff, who folds his annoyed arms, the outpost trader gives the pair an insinuating look.

"Aren't you two gentlemen traveling together?" A confused Torvik asks the unlikely companions, having received completely mixed signals on what they were looking to buy.

"Yes, sir, we are." Hans answers honestly, civil to a fault.

"No, we are _**not!"**_ However, Kristoff gets the big man's implied debauched drift at the pair's bantering raillery and how normally rational Kristoff spoke quixotically of a 'honeymoon' earlier. "No, wait! My new wife's waiting in the sled!" Wanting to produce Anna as proof positive, Kristoff cries out, his face a deep red in mortification.

"Oh, good! Even better! On a honeymoon with friends! Two sleds are always better than one, Torvik says!" The man bounces back, laughing at his own joke. "And if you take two of these fine horses, I will give you a super-duper, just married, half-off deal on that large Russian Vozak you were admiring earlier."

"Nah, too heavy." Though tempting for all its safety features, the big brute of the Russian wooden box posed its own weighty problems that would slow their urgent mission down.

"I vill throw in a Pulka, directly from the Lapland mountains. Just right size to stash the little wife!"

"Too small." An arms-crossed, no-nonsense, practical and prudent Kristoff quickly dismisses the traditional Lap sled, called an Ahkio, that was generally utilized for small mountain rescues. He had been familiar with the sleds, since living beside the ice harvesters who had close ties to the Sami mountain reindeer herdsman in his youth.

"You are a hard fellow to please, Mister Bjorgman!" The aged, adept salesman throws his hands up in frustration at this big, blonde tough customer, who had visited his shop every year since he was a vee little chap.

And still he was an Ort pinching tightwad.

The two stare each other down with furrowed, price-challenging eyes.

"Please, excuse me. But if we purchase this sleigh with the modified canvas roof cover and smooth-sliding longitudinal skate runners at full price—" Prince Hans suddenly interrupts the hardcore bartering and trading action going on between Kristoff and the trader, with a slick deal all of his own making.

"—will you allow us to merely borrow two of your fine handsome steeds with a gentleman's promise to return the pair in healthy condition, or double their cost, upon our return in a fortnight?"

"Hmmm…" Torvik always did like a bit of a gamble. "Double my money, you say? Cash on the barrel for this special, hand built, first-rate sleigh—modelled after the newest elegant, roomy French style six passenger vis-à-vis bobsleigh?"

"—In other words, 'refurbished and used.'" Pragmatic Kristoff points out.

"Used? Used gently, very gently." Torvik relents when his normal sour mood at nightmare customers like Kristoff is soon beguiled by the blonde's statesman-like companion's pervasive winning smile.

"Still, anyone can see it is a magnificent craft, personally cared for by an expert who knows what he's doing with fine, sleighing vehicles." Hans bolsters the puffed up trader and his sleigh with a calm winsome smile.

_One catches more flies with honey…_

"But, it's just a—" Kristoff lumbers over to check out the covered sleigh that Hans had picked out, to proverbially and physically 'kick its runners'.

"I realize you are far more an expert in the field of winter vehicles than I, and I bow to your sagacity. However, I do believe it's an exclusive deal that we may be wise to take into consideration, Mr. Bjorgman. Especially consider this kind gentleman's gracious gesture in bestowing upon you and Princess Anna a wedding discount."

Just then, as if on cue, while still (mildly) obeying her husband, Anna had driven a sneaky Sven around the trading outpost corner, so she could get a better view of watching that Westergaard with eyes in the back of her head. She didn't trust the devious man alone with her sweet Kristoff.

A squinting Anna blinks in the sunlight at the three men, irratated to watch Hans give Elsa a smooth little wave and cocky smile that elicits a crimson cheeked blush and lowered eyes still at her earlier shame, much to his pleasure.

"Oh, my! Your good lady's the Princess? Half off the sleigh in celebration of the happy event! Just two hundred speciedalers, along with Torvik's best blessings on your successful marriage, my children!" A patriotic, and heart-happy Torvik even lowers the price, despite his 'better' nature, upon the honor of glimpsing the princess and…C_ould that be the—?_ Full of Norwegian pride, all thoughts of inflated money-making fall to the wayside upon seeing his majestic Queen.

"Then, perhaps, you'll allow our lovely ladies to give their personal approval on which of these fine horses we will accept on loan from your stables, Mr. Torvik. We must be departing soon—time is of the essence."

"You must admire a young man who is able to outfox me with such a good deal, and still have fire in his belly, eh, ladies?" The shop owner gives Elsa, Rapunzel and Anna, still in their sled, a wink at good-looking Hans' wily business sense, causing Anna to feel now like she could 'upchuck' as well at the overwhelming praise of that 'too wonderful' dirty rotten scoundrel.

"Yes! Let us get this exciting show on the road for your new bride, by all means! Beautiful Highnesses, Your Majesty, welcome to Touring Torvik's humble trading post stables, and massage therapy lounge, on the side. Please, take your choice of my finest steeds. I give them on loan as a favor to Your gracious Majesty. And I vill even throw in a free session for the blushing bride and her lady friends in my massage lounge." The portly man bows to the three shocked yet smiling females, who were wondering how all this came about in the few short minutes that the pair of men had left them.

Hans, playing the perfect gentleman to a tee, waves off the amatuer masseuse's offer politely, much to the women's teeth-clenched relief. Hans then immediately strides over to the silvery mare he had already made proper acquaintance of in admiring the Friesian's sleek and powerful good bone structure, as well as her great presence, as the satin horse carries herself with innate elegance under his expert hand.

He leads the white marble coated mare out to Sven's sleigh to canter before Elsa's eyes for the Queen's approved consent of his personal favorite choice.

"Her name is Iriserende—I believe it's rather fitting for this iridescent platinum beauty, don't you?" Hans praises the white horse's high steeping gait, well-chiseled beauty, pearlized sloping shoulders and feather-like, long silky alabaster hair left untrimmed deliberately on her lower legs for effect.

A reserved Elsa gives a slight nod into his beaming eyes and he brings the snowy statuesque, yet gentle and docile pale mare closer the sleigh for Elsa to softly pat the silvery tuft of hair on Iriserende's natural white forehead that signaled a purebred.

"She's marvelous." Elsa whispers as queen and mare's large feminine eyes meld in warm understanding to land expectantly full of anticipation up at the distinguished prince, who had been unabashedly fawning over them both.

"Okay, Torvik, since you don't have _**ANY**_ other reindeer…sorry, Sven. I guess we'll take on this little guy here." After having a walk around the stables, Kristoff decides on a Dolahest draft horse he had spoken up for earlier.

'Guddy' might not have been as big nor blustery as some of the other drafts in the trader's barn, standing at only fourteen or less hands high, but the Norwegian dole was known for good pulling power and agility. Kristoff opens the latch of his stall to untether Guddy and bring the well-muscled, short legged yet sturdy draft horse to meet first Sven. He snorts in shrugged authorization and Kristoff smiles enigmatically in response.

"Sven, this is Guddy. Guddy, Sven." He introduces the animals as if they were sentient, well-mannered people, and they acknowledge one another in their sniffing quadruped way.

A ungraceful Anna crawls out of the sled to sit directly on the new horse's surprised yet permissive back in her impetuous way.

"Anna. What on earth do you think you're doing?" Kristoff chuckles at his vivacious wife's lively spontaneity at fearlessly bareback riding their new gelding friend.

"Taking the horse you 'borrowed' for a test drive, of course. Papa always said that you should never purchase a horse without taking it for a run to see that it doesn't drop dead. Giddyap, Guddy!"

Though her father did not _exactly_ say all of that, Anna needed this little bit of liberating emotional escape as she gives Elsa and Hans a backward hostile glare right about now.

"S'pose that's a 'we'll probably take him' from my little wife. Okay, Torvik, let's get this milk-fed horse hitched up to that sleigh my friend-and I say the word 'friend' loosely-chose fir us." The way Kristoff distastefully said the word 'horse' too, (he preferred reindeer every time) was almost funny.

And he knew Prince Hans just got his own way before their journey was even starting already, and that awareness left a bad taste in his gullet too.

_Not gonna let **that **happen too often on this trip, pal. But with a covered sleigh for the girls in who knows what weather, I guess it worked out okay._

The good guy in Kristoff couldn't help but honestly afford the ivory horse a kind, consenting smile which Elsa proudly shares when dab-hand equine connoisseur Hans actually takes the reins (both metaphorically and physically speaking) and, unexpectedly, not afraid to get his royal hands dirty, rather as a trained groomsman would, goes down to his knees to lean and stretch his regal red-head beneath the new covered sleigh.

With swift purposeful actions, Hans attaches the bow and shaft top with the neck yoke and horse pull for hook up like a seasoned pro. He then agilely swings back up to his feet, balancing his weight to hang around the horse's pale neck and flash an awestruck Elsa a triumphant smile. For in this equestrian world, Prince Hans was truly in his favorite element now.

After a quick rub down and grooming with a wire horse brush that he had gallantly taken from the bucket of cold, soapy water, as if he's given many steeds a hands on curry all his life, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles expertly and deftly attaches the horse collar harness around the sedate beast's proud neck. He reemerges from behind the fully attached vehicle with a proud air.

An impressed, wide-eyed Kristoff gives Hans a '_hmphing' _nod. He had watched carefully that each yoke strap piece of tackle had been correctly positioned and the horse's reins weren't too slack. After the larger man concluded the spoiled prince'd done it all right, Kristoff slaps both horse and Prince on the back and Hans does all he can not to wince in pain at the friendly blow.

"Oh, sorry…forgot the back wound. I'll just go and fetch my little firecracker before she tires out old Guddy." Before he goes, Kristoff gives Hans a conciliatory cringing smile when he realizes his pain-causing error.

But he gets recompensed in a way, when Torvik intercepts him with an impatient palm extended in wait of an already discounted payment. Conservative Kristoff was always loathe to part with his hard-earned cash, but he had to give some regard to Hans for somehow managing to strike a pretty good deal with the money wise old trader. The rich boy surprised the young entrepreneur with his business savvy.

_What other tricks do you got up your sleeve?_

"Anna! Stop running around in circles! You're gonna wear him out before we even start!" Kristoff races around to halt the rash girl as she recklessly gallops the new borrowed steed around the small corral until Kristoff himself was dizzy to watch.

"Are you okay?" A sympathetic Rapunzel asks Hans as he comes up to them, feeling his stiffened back hurt in her compassionate eyes.

"I've been worse." Hans answers, sucking in a breath between his teeth as he shakes his smiling head to her concern.

"Oh! Come here!…please…" Calling out of nowhere, Elsa suddenly grows timid after she had reached out a delicate hand in almost royal command, for a pleasantly awed Hans to obey. His recovery from the blow was now complete in his astonishment.

"Your wish is my…" He begins with his newfound, reinstated flirtatious bravado, but when Elsa's pale thin hand can't help itself from reaching out to smooth back Hans' mussed hair from the industry of his hand at assembling the horse to be harnessed to the new sleigh, he finishes the cocky phrase with less tease and more breathlessness passing between their eyes.

"…command…"

The tentatively doe-eyed Queen Elsa had been thoroughly impressed with not only his able physical activity, but also Hans' diplomatic genius in negotiating on his feet by wrapping the businessman around his wily finger, and maybe a little bit more of her once frozen heart, too.

But their little tete-a-tete doesn't go unnoticed by Anna as she and Guddy, the 'Gudsbrandsdale' horse, come galloping back at fullspeed, almost running a thankfully quick stepping (_for him_) Hans down as she and horse rush right between the man and the sled.

"Yeah, he's a good boy." Grateful Guddy did exactly as directed, Anna whacks the sturdy shoulders of the palomino colored gelding with one hand and another on her huffing for breath when he finally catches up from chasing her around the yard, Kristoff's broad shoulder.

"Shall I do the honors again, Mr. Bjorgman?" Yet formal spoken, Princely Hans kindly offers to hitch the maize colored horse to the large sleigh as responsible, husband-like Kristoff reaches up to help his wife down from her sandy ride. But he has to scramble to grasp the nearly tumbling down Anna, as she, in her recklessness, almost clobbers him silly on the way down.

"Yeah, if you would…I've got my hands full…" Trusting the man's competency in this area, Kristoff chokes out in a high-registered voice, bending over as he fights for air again after little Anna's kicking feet knocked against him in certain, unmentionable places.

Oblivious Anna didn't realize her wild glomping had this effect, as Kristoff puts her squarely down on the ground and she skitters away from her temporarily disabled, doubled over guy.

"Okay, gang! Everybody outta Sven's sleigh!" Her head cleared by the brisk, afternoon ride and with a new plan of action in mind, plotting against that despicable redhead, a bossy Anna slaps her hands together to get the group's attention.

"Yay! I love new sleigh smell! This is so exciting! Oops, oh no! My precious carrot! Not another one to watch out for!" Olaf, in his own hapless way, bounces from Sven's sleigh with a spill. All three of his snow mound parts go flying in different directions though his head unfortunately lands right where a hungry Guddy can take a chew, to which Sven himself shockingly comes to the rescue. He purloins the forever-fresh orange veggie into his furry reindeer large wet mouth instead.

One amused glance and subsequent hug from Rapunzel and a pointy accusing finger from Pascal, the naughty, amused reindeer spits out the carrot to deposit Olaf's 'nose' back in place on his face, just as the rest of him is reassembled by a nonplussed Hans, who had discovered the magic snowman's midsection rolling beside him on the ground under the sleigh's tight bend horse pull he was industriously attaching together.

Walking across the way, Hans plunks the frosty friend's three parts back together with a bemused smirk.

"Thank you for that…Prince Hans." Swallowing her slumbered humiliation now melted in his warm eyes, Elsa says appreciatively, as yet again, her hands push back his one messy lock of misbehaving slicked back red hair. She had gathered enough courage to speak his name to his face at last.

"It's 'Just Hans,' Elsa!" Olaf calls out giddly as he hobbles past the dazed, staring at one another pair. Hans gentlemanly offers Elsa his warm hand to aid her graceful form as she descends from the sled.

"Oh, Olaf." Elsa giggles in shame of the tactless snowman, as Anna quickly scurries between them to whisk Elsa off to the new sleigh.

"He's right, you know. It is just 'Hans' from now on, if you please…Elsa." He was growing increasingly bolder from all their intimate exchanges as he gives her a meaningful look. It causes her heart to skip an extra beat at the mere sound of his velvety voice speaking her first name in such familiarity, without any title.

"I do please…_**Hans…"**_ Her breathy whisper carries on the wind back to him, over Anna's disapproving shoulder, as muttering some rude expletives at the oily slimy snake charmer_ no good blank-blank_, the younger princess pulls her sister away from the red foxy devil into the new covered horse-drawn sleigh.

All the afternoon's invigorating exercise, plus her lips uttering his name alone, added some extra testosterone to this never depleted male, as he relieves some of it by lovingly stroking Iriserende's feathery mane he had brushed out earlier when he too approaches the new sleigh.

All the while, Hans' bewitched eyes never cease to follow the Arendelle sovereign's trail into the vis-à-vis sleigh.

And Elsa's icy pale hair glimmers in the noon overhead sun as she peers out to steal a shy glance at him, starkly opposed to Anna's suspicious glare…


	18. Chapter 17 - Road Trip

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 17**

**"Road Trip"**

"So, Anna, how is your honeymoon going? I don't want to seem whiny after we had at least those first few thrilling days in Troll Valley and then at that dumb Oaken's barn…" After displaying a goofy smile at the vivid not-too-distant memories of being with his little new wife, Kristoff Bjorgman pauses here for a gulp of cold air to calm his stirring senses. "…But this second half part of our honeymoon has been a real let down for me, I'll tell ya that. How are you holding up?"

Some forty kilometers from Touring Torvik's Trading Post later, the big boned blonde turns from his mumbled mouthed meanderings as he's driving his sleigh to gaze upon his adorable life's chosen partner seated in her spot beside him on their "Royal Ice Harvester and Deliverer" vehicle's front bench—

—to have nothing but the cool, crisp, later afternoon's early dusk cold biting winds answer him back.

If he knew her train of thought well, his sweet little 'firecracker,' Princess Anna of Arendelle herself, was surely set ablaze with her inner powder keg of fiery combustion within the horse-drawn enclosed sleigh following close behind the experienced ice traveler and his trusty reindeer's sled.

And from the way Anna's cute face looked to be glowering at that double horse drawn sleigh's driver, Kristoff did know his Anna pretty darn well.

Especially after that rude way, there was no other word for it, she had bossed Elsa, Rapunzel, Pascal, Olaf and himself included, whilst the designated driver of the other sleigh, Hans Westergaard, received a literal cold shoulder, when some baskets filled with cold gherkins 'accidentally' spilled out onto the injured man's lap as Anna mightily hefted them onboard, refusing Hans' offers of aid to carry the luggage aboard for his new passengers.

Anna had arranged the seating on the new Vis-à-vis carriage after a few terse arguments from her queasy-stomached cousin who preferred the covered sleigh's more comfortable interior and dual-horse team smoother ride over a snorting, insulted Sven's open sleigh.

And when an acquiescing Elsa had too heartily agreed for an unhappy Anna's taste, especially when the shocked and offended youngest girl was informed that she wouldn't be the one to Captain the new sleigh that she and Kristoff had just purchased, it was just too much for our sweet firebrand.

Though Anna **_DID_** have some 'moderate' experience in driving his sled with Sven, Kristoff was not at all convinced in the wisdom of allowing his 'still in training', reckless little gal to be at the helm of the new, untested craft—not to mention an unmatched pair of yet unpredictable horses in Sven's sturdy, compensating for her driver's error place.

This new sleigh required someone more competent at equines to take the reins. He may not have liked the man, and he was nowhere close to trusting the former treasonous criminal, but fair and honest Kristoff had to rationalize the greater judiciousness of letting horse-proficient Prince Hans handle the craft rather than his accident-prone, haphazard, klutzy wife.

After all, though Kristoff was no chauvinist by any means, when it came down to it, to be able to master a brand new mismatched team of horses, harnessed together to a hopefully not rickety, modified trade-in sleigh, a man's firm hand **was **necessary.

By either luck or curse, this redheaded guy was all Kristoff had to rely on, at hand.

"Isn't having me sit here next to you almost the same as having Anna? I'd have loved to have been with you guys to visit the trolls and the valley. I love your troll family, Kristoff. And, oh, oh! I wish I was there! Oaken's barn sounded like fun, too, even if he is dumb." Olaf chants until Kristoff rolls his eyes at his snowy front seat passenger. The blonde was in frustration at Anna's decision to stick by her sister like glue, especially where that guy was concerned.

"I'm glad you weren't…" Kristoff mumbles under his breath, recalling with a pleased smile some intimate honeymoon affairs between himself and his energetic Anna that one curious snowman was not invited to witness.

"Well, Anna said you wouldn't be lonely if I stayed with you and Sven to keep you company, while the three girls and Pascal would rather be up there with JustHans on his sleigh. So here I am! What do you want to chat about next, Kristoff? Elsa's been training me to be a good listener as well as a humorous conversationalist. But I can sing if you like! I love to sing, especially 'In Summer!'" His dark charcoal eyes gaze about the falling dusk as he composes his new song to an old familiar tune.

"I feel the warm summer breeze,  
>See bunnies and hares hop dandelion leaves<br>White throated dippers fly past the birds and the bees  
>In summer!" <em>Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba!<em>

The tactless Olaf begins to warble out rather too loudly for Kristoff's now earshattered taste.

Carried on the wind from ahead, to hear the raised volume of the happy snowman's new summer serenade to the moving landscape all around him, the two females—one older and one younger, onboard the Vis-à-vis sleigh who knew their share of the 'birds and the bees' look to the third young woman, aged between the formerly mentioned experienced married women, who did not.

Elsa was now seated across from Anna and Rapunzel in this state-of-the-art vehicle with the comfortable plush interior, in wide roomy three passenger benches that faced one another.

The unlikely driver was raised higher at his outdoor post at the helm in the forward section of the sleigh, keeping his eyes on the road most of the time during the uncomfortable silent kilometers. Every now and then, though, Hans Westergaard's glance would steal back to gaze upon the back of the head of the platinum blonde almost longingly.

Confronted before with the perplexing reality of keeping her sweet, innocent, elder sister at a safe arm's distance away from that devious scoundrel, 'take charge' Anna conceded to both men's judgement that Elsa and Rapunzel—the two less outdoorsy types than herself—would be better off in the smoother riding, covered from the elements sleigh.

After Kristoff had agreed it _was_ for the best, Anna had given in to the perspicacity of their argument. **_She_** would just have to personally join them in the new sleigh, as 'watcher on the wall' per se, to satisfy her own suspicion as to Mr. Westergaard's questionable honor and dependability.

So once a few food baskets and immediate necessities were distributed out to the new sleigh's ample roominess, Anna abandoned her new husband to unexpectedly jump onboard the new sleigh, just the moment before Hans, after an earnest conversation with Kristoff on travel length and route choices, had climbed back up to his driver's seat.

Upon swiveling around with a coy smile to welcome the two lovely young ladies and Pascal, who would be his new 'shipmates' on this landlocked journey, Hans disappointed grin was instead greeted by the twisted lip smirk of the unscheduled third female passenger, whose opinion of him, was, by far, less favorable.

_And understandably so. Perhaps this journey is the opportunity for me to make amends with Princess Anna and maybe, also get a chance to prove myself unpretentious in her sister's eyes…_

Hans' eyes smile as he envisions the pretty face of Queen Elsa in his head, glowing her indescribable shine back at him, bringing a verse to his repentant mind.

_'But if we walk in the light as He is the light, when we have fellowship with one another, the blood of Jesus Christ, the Son, cleanses us from all sin.'_

Though a dubious Anna's stern standoffish warning to 'back off' turns his expression to a doleful resigned smile, he comforts himself with the prayer of hope springing eternal nonetheless.

"'Knock and the door shall be opened unto you'?" Hans whispers aloud to the horses ahead as he gently, yet firmly, holds the unbalanced reins as would a true, professional driver. He instinctively acknowledged each of the two vastly different horses at his command. Albino Fresian Iriserende's sleek elegant trot required a loose rein in his left hand, while he had to hold tautly Guddy (_fine name for a creature of this **noble** line_), the draft horse Dolahest gelding who was more accustomed to utilizing his shorter body's muscular pulling power as a pack horse for agriculture purposes.

But Prince Hans had a deft hand for manipulating any horse, even more than he did for humans. Soon, the mismatched equestrian pair were well under control after a few kilometers under the enthusiast horseman's able hands.

Losing the Bibical quote's inner meaning with a snide sneering: "What's with this guy and **doors** anyway?! Does he have a thing with doors?" Anna mockingly murmurs just loudly enough for Hans to hear up front. Her pent up ire rises with each kilometer of watching Elsa blush under each of Hans' stolen glances back at her.

That was the foremost reason why Anna had switched Rapunzel and her sister's seats. Anna believed that Elsa's back to the front would garner less unwanted eye contact.

"Olaf is correct to extol the splendors of your beautiful country's summer season." Leaning down to speak with the compliment meant chiefly for Elsa's ears, Hans gazes around the fast-paced sleigh with enlarged, clear eyes. The Danish prince had been in studied awe of the Norwegian stunning sunset cast over the glimmering waters of the fjord peppered lands to the west, the lush green fields to the south, and the rolling snow capped mountains looming in the north and east—where they were headed, en route to Trondheim.

"I'd been on that ship so long, I had almost forgotten how magnificent a countryside vista could be." A few quiet kilometers later, Hans calls back, once again trying to break the ice.

"Why, thank you. I believe it is splendid countryside." Elsa comes out of her shell to cordially respond, as a ruler proud of her nation. A protective Anna subsequently kicks her sister's feet with her own, with a conspicuous shaking head and look of reprimand to _'not speak to him'_ back at her.

"That's right! This beautiful place is a far cry from that stuffy galley you had to be crammed in—working your poor fingers to the bone, cooking and cleaning that ship and help rig it, too! All for that mean old patch-eyed pirate." An observant Rapunzel saves the conversation from that uncomfortable pace as she projects her voice forward so Hans could hear up in the driver's seat. The exchange with her new brother-in-law was a welcome change to take her mind off her worries for a bit.

"If accomplished with an uncomplaining heart, there is pleasure to be found in even the most mundane, unsavory tasks if we keep His presence close in times of trouble." Hans answers Rapunzel's kind eyes with a pair of his own.

"And it sure helps, too, if you find the right companion to share it beside you. I still can't imagine, you, of all people, doing the washing up and chopping up vegetables and peeling potatoes like a scullery maid in that dark little kitchen, Elsa!" With an intimating smile and nudging elbow to her rib, Rapunzel tries to add to their chat her prim and proper cousin. "I wish I could've been there to see you do it all." She squeezes Elsa's hands.

"Yes, she was quite invaluable and amazing in the galley. I never did get the chance to tell you how impressed I was at how quickly you picked up scalloping and sautéing techniques." Hans not only verbally praises Elsa's skills with his gracious words, but he also reaches an ambidextrous arm back to lightly touch her long length of braided silken hair with pride.

After allowing herself a close-eyed split second reverie of pure bliss at his tender touch, reserved and timid Elsa suddenly remembers herself and that they had an audience. She stiffens in her seat, with her back to his sweetly yearning hand. She becomes rigidly straight and tense, before peeking up to look very, very guiltily into Anna's boiling, fuming eyes, after the younger more experienced in these matters girl puts what she thinks is two and two together.

Elsa tries to imagine how incriminating Rapunzel's teasing words from before must've sounded to her sister's suspicious ear.

"**HEY! HANDS OFF THE BRAID, FANCY MAN!"** Anna jumps up from her laid back position, in her previous attempt to appear civilly disinterested in anything **_that_** man had to say about the weather and landscapes and such.

But when her eyes catch sight of this obvious display in the corner of her peripheral vision, (which nearly counted as the back of her head as previously warned) the feisty girl reacts by instantly slapping his forearm away from so familiarly touching Elsa's tresses, as Hans pulls back in contrite self-reproach.

"Anna! Don't freak out!" Rapunzel berates the youngest member of their team with a fierce whisper.

"And where were you, Cousin, when that louse was being all 'impressed and amazed' with Elsa! **ALONE** in that dark galley with him—all those days?! And nights, too, I suppose!" Spitting nickels, in her own pointed whisper at Rapunzel, with fury in her accusing eyes that were growing smaller and more irritated with each quickly passing kilometer the sleigh was traveling.

"Anna! Such a thing! Please stop being so rude!" A distressed Elsa tries to quietly quell her sister's anger and pulls both their heads closer to the center of the sleigh for more privacy. She begs her offensive sibling to lower her lashing out, unctuous tone, directed at the gentleman above them.

"Who's being rude?!" A _hmphing_, self-righteous Anna shrugs in defiance as she wraps a fiercely possessive, shielding arm around Elsa's unsettled head.

"Uhh…you are. Hans probably heard everything you said." Rapunzel retorts close into Anna's red ear in a reprimanding whisper like an older sibling, knowing Hans' own ears must be burning from all the slander.

The compassionate female felt the need to defend her lifeboat mate, who just happened to also be Eugene's little brother.

_No, I can't think about __Eugene__ right now…_

Rapunzel's tummy gets nauseated again from all the upset, despite the more stable ride. She sits back in her seat, breathing hard as she can't halt the flood of her husband's many handsome faces flowing through her brain.

"Well, **I don't care** if he—" In full blown combustion, a twisted lip faced Anna begins to shout out in a noisy spout of rebellious defiance, upon finding out that her as pure as snow big sister _may_ have been tainted by that feigning to be a gentleman cad on that blasted boat ride.

But Rapunzel snaps out of her unbalanced, bilious state enough to throw a quick palm to the gutsy girl's fire-breathing mouth.

"Anna! Hush!" The cautioning brunette shakes her bristling cousin's trembling with rage shoulders. "Why do you keep trying to split them apart now that they've found each other again?" She hisses in a whisper soft enough so that Elsa couldn't overhear.

"Anna, please try to understand! He's been so kind to us!" Elsa finally finds her voice enough to plead, her customary high strains at a low rumble as she tries to contain her own surging confused emotions puzzling over this perhaps ill-fated relationship with the man Anna still obviously despised.

_So how could I ever entertain the thought of…even considering that I might be… in love with him?_

_What do I even know of love? I know nothing of its mysteries beyond the fact that my sister's love means more to me than any…perchance ephemeral…passing pounding of my fool heart?_

Queen Elsa of Arendelle's self tormented childhood, despite having the advantage of loving, caring parents who only wished to help their daughter, was spent in such fear and doubt that she could ever live a normal happy life. It made her never certain of the emotions she always kept her distance from to ever thaw her frozen heart fully, until recently.

These past two years with her dearest friend—the other half of her soul—her beloved sister, Anna, gave Elsa the certainty that if her heart was to continue to beat, it would be only with the encouragement of Anna's warmth right at her side.

The Lord God above blessed her with a gift—that little sister who had chosen to sacrifice her own life, to save another she loved far more.

_Me._

_Oh, Anna, what do I do now? Allowing myself emotions is so new to me. I'm not even certain what I feel. I only know I don't want to lose what we've got now—help me, please!_

To look into her sister's usually happy eyes, now glaring back at her, Elsa agonizes the emotional options within her spinning mind.

Silently calling out for Anna to rescue her again, every confused upset thought begins to form ice crystals across Elsa's entire body, right down to her trembling fingers. She squeezes them tightly together, wringing her hands, trying to stop the dangerous frosted outcome from unfurling.

But right now, with a crazed-eyed Anna turning her back to Elsa stubbornly, perturbed that she could fall for this…this…_charmer'_s sly tricks as well, despite being warned off, the sun sinks low beneath the horizon and the cool night's moon emerges with its empty, vacuumed absence of warmth.

A clammy and cold Elsa couldn't find her way out of the ice storm spiraling around her petrified heart as the icy thought solidifies of losing the love of her adored sister in exchange for the dream of a forbidden love with…

Someone she knew she could never have.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound  
>That saved a wretch like me…"<p>

The beautiful ethereal voice of a man who was once a high ranged tenor choir boy in his youth chooses this serendipitous moment to bridge the tense, argumentative gap between sisters in the best way he knew how to reach out and calm a disturbed heart with the soulful lyrics written by a fellow seaman named John Newton who had found his way through the darkness to the Light, some hundred years ago, that touched Hans' own broken spirit in the moment he needed it in more ways than the lonely little rich prince could've imagined.

"…I once was lost and now I'm found  
>'Twas blind, but now I see."<p>

Each crystal clear word was glorified by his soft, yet strong velvety timbre in perfect pitch that breaks through the cooling down dusky darkness over the silent, empty road as it also pierces into the pounding cold heart of the pale frightened woman seated only a few feet behind him. His songful golden strains warmed her irresolute heart until the fearful chill inside her passes.

But the effect of his intended soothing voice also succeeded in calming Anna, as both anxious girls listen to the holy song's sweet lyrics, and Anna's face pauses in its anger to turn back around and gaze up towards them.

"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear  
>And grace my fears relieved<br>How precious did that grace appear  
>That hour I first believed."<p>

Gently finishing the perfectly performed melody, so close to his own heart, Prince Hans had no idea how Providential his chosen hymn was for bringing peace between the two siblings when he glances back from the helm of the Vis-à-vis he was driving, to be gratified to see the now tearful sisters in a fervently hugged embrace.

Tears of regret for their silly argument, once again caused by this same blighted man—though now in reverse—was streaming down both their cheeks.

"Please forgive me…" and "I'm so sorry!" are simultaneously spoken in each sister's weeping eyes now merging into smiles as they give each other another hug and sisterly kiss.

Within a precious melody, all was forgiven between these closest of sisters.

"Wow…there really is magic in a song." Sensing the healing power of the touching tune distinctly, Rapunzel comments lowly with a relieved exhale.

She, an only child locked away in a tower all her young sheltered life, had read about them, but never had experienced a sibling fight up close before. The multi-coloring Pascal finally settles down amidst the tense covered sleigh's passenger car to a relaxed, contented medium cadet blue, after the pair had witnessed this truly tenderly heartwarming scene of renewed sisterly affection.

Just then, the quickly timed, trotting horse-drawn sleigh comes to a slowed halt.

"Whoa, Iriserend. Whoa, Guddy." Hans' melodious voice once again soothes the abruptly stopped horses until they come to a standstill. "Is everyone back there all right?" He calls into the covered sleigh, meeting four pairs of nodding, curious eyes with his compassionate ones before he gallantly leaps down from the sleigh's driver's seat to meet up with Kristoff, who was ambling towards him partway.

The girls watch the two handsome men converse in the dark night, their silhouettes illuminated only by the parted clouds over the full moon.

"You really think he's changed, Elsa?" After a few moments of silently observing, whilst the two sisters were still holding each others' hands, Anna sucks in a deep breath of air before she ventures to ask the soul searching question.

All eyes that were fixed upon the serious discussion between the tall men, who appeared to be assessing the area as they pointed hands and arms in one direction or another, now turn to look at Elsa for her thoughtfully considered answer.

"On this journey—I know the words sound crazy—but I feel I've glimpsed his soul, Anna. I…trust him." Elsa replies honestly, recalling each one of the genuine soulful encounters she had had thus far with the earnestly reformed Prince. She looks at her sister with her open heart on her sleeve.

"His…soul? I didn't know he even had one." In a grumbling, still somewhat cagey way, Anna murmurs under her breath. But the truce struck between them still carried water within Elsa's wells of pleading eyes for understanding. That was reason enough now for her singularly concerned and caring Anna to relent the majority of her anger with a tender smile, trying to see things from her dearest friend's point of view.

"Well, I trust **_you,_** Elsa. And…I'll really try this time. For you, Elsie." Anna embraces her big sis in an even bigger bear hug, squeezing her tight. "But I'll still be watching with eyes in the back of my head! And if he ever hurts you—if he ever even just looks at you wrong, I won't promise not to snap his skinny butt in half like a twig!" Anna reaches a hand out the sleigh to reach a bowing down low tree branch, which she cracks in two between her spirited fingers demonstrative easily.

"He **is** too skinny." Rapunzel chuckles to lighten the mood as audience to the now turned lively exchange between the girls.

"Rapunzel!" Elsa is surprised at this gossipy verbal attack that was uncalled for upon the royal prince.

"Worse than a little girl!" Anna chortles wickedly at her archenemy's slight, bony physicality on parade for all the world to see this morning, as compared to her big, beefy, manly brute of a Kristoff.

"Anna! He is not!" Elsa strangely feels secure enough to defend him with her own knowledge of Hans Westergaard's _very_ in-shape body.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far—from what I've seen close up!" Rapunzel chides Anna's release valve of ridicule of the understandably somewhat emaciated to all sinew and bone young man who had been worked for years as a slave on that wicked pirate ship. "Although, he _could_ use some fattening up to be more manly." Her eyes were more used to feasting on a certain man's more well-endowed upper body muscle structure. _My __Eugene__ has got **some** **gorgeous** ripped pecs, not to mention his **divine **picturesque obliques…Sigh..._

"No! He's absolutely perfectly masculine!" A mortified Elsa cries out shrilly, disbelieving, after their near emotional breakdown earlier, that her two female companions were so debasing such a perfect specimen of a man in this crude and appalling manner, who was due some decent respect as a member of royalty, when—

"I am glad to see you three ladies in a more jovial, equable mood. It does a man a world of good to be greeted by such lovely, glowing faces full of mirth." Hans innocently comments as he returns by agilely slinging his long, thin legs and extremely tight behind down seamlessly to sit on his perch at the covered sleigh's helm before them.

This causes two of the three 'lovely' ladies to break out in titters of giggles.

Hans gives a quizzical look as he turns around to the females whose eyes were all on him.

"And who, might I ask, Queen Elsa, if I may be so bold, is '_perfectly masculine?_' That is, if I may be privy to highly sensitive, feminine conversation details." Hans can't help himself from inquiring, with a sneaking suspicion, as to who they were speaking of. He gives a side glance directly at Elsa's deer-in-the-headlights, guilty doe-eyes as he idly watches Kristoff's sleigh veer Sven off the well-beaten gravelly road, to turn down a side path. A wildly waving back at them Olaf nearly tumbles off the front seat when able-bodied Kristoff's quick reflexes catch the plummeting snowman from danger.

Elsa's habit of wringing hands while she quickly thought up a suitable response was unnecessary, for Anna found her pipes first.

"Guddy!" The orange haired girl was almost hysterical with giddy laughter at her own inside joke. The other two girls soon join in the laughter of her fibbing boldness, as she recklessly scurries up to the sleigh's front beside a surprised Hans to lean over and pat the chestnut Dole's rump playfully.

The action of which causes the shocked, plodding draft horse to oddly throw his befuddled head back, making the skittish ivory mare next to him panic and back up, to rear on her hind legs. Iriserende breaks into a mad gallop while the Dolahest gelding strapped to her side as a team, does his best to keep up or be trampled by the well-chiseled, muscular Fresian breed.

"Whoa, girl! Slow down! Please! Iriserend! Whoa!"

"Princess Anna, would you-?" An anxious though ever-polite Prince Hans turns to the stunned, wide-eyed Anna, whose own rump had been plunked down on the driver's seat next to him with the thrust back action versus reaction of the bolting horses after she had startled Guddy, and subsequently, Iriserende.

With a non-judgmental, sweet, trusting smile, Hans hands Anna the reins. He then utilizes all of his_ 'too thin'_ muscles in fluid movements to courageously balance and climb out upon the disoriented ebony horse's back, even as the horse was frantically galloping at a wild pounding hooved pace.

In vastly differing degrees of delight, respect and awe, the three wide-eyed girls watch how Hans valiantly leans his entire limber frame down to embrace the panting mare's pallid neck as if she were a frightened lady in need of a tender embrace.

Soon, the normally gentle and docile horse finds her center within the brave man's steady heartbeat and gentle whispers against her ear. Iriserende slows down to match Guddy's powerful, yet stabilized sturdy pace again.

When the out of control double horse-drawn sleigh finally comes to a complete stop, Anna needed all the restraint of her promise to Elsa not to use the reins at her disposal to whip Hans Westergaard's taut backside in punishment.

But somehow, after all his heroics, she didn't quite have the heart to do it anymore.

_Not quite._

Principally perhaps, because as they stop near a knoll with a stream, Anna was close enough to be able to just about hear the former villain still clinging to the now tranquil mare's neck, humming low an age-old Scottish tune intended to calm and soothe any feminine frayed nerves.

"Greensleeves was my heart of gold and who but my lady Greensleeves…" Hans looked just like a princely knight in shining armor serenading his lady love.

**_Shake shake shake_**

"Oooh! Why does that guy still have to be such a show-off?!" Her head shakes in full denial. Anna's only semi-impressed thoughts turn sour upon watching an obviously awestruck Elsa immediately dash out of the stopped sleigh to rush to both heroic man and mare. The terrified young queen needed to see that both finely well-muscled creatures were both in one piece yet.

And Elsa is prayerfully grateful to be granted his small smile peeking up as she pets Iriserende's heaving chest in comfort.

"**What the hell are you playing at, pal**?!" Just then, Kristoff, looking the panicked pungent reindeer king he was, practically standing, riding high upon the sleigh pulled by a full speed Sven's huffing and puffing over-raced back, comes bounding and thundering around the tree-lined glen's knoll like a wild raging bear.

The by now hot blooded blonde leaps down from his own sleigh to vehemently stomp towards the other thought gone rogue sleigh where a recovering Hans was just about to alight from the sanguine horse's back. The slim gentleman lands directly on his two able feet as he dismounts before more than a few admiring eyes to stand mere inches before a seething and angry Kristoff.

"Believe me when I say, sir, I was **not** playing. It was quite…inexplicable as to what frightened the horses. However, there were more than a few mysteriously snapped branches in the darkness that could have set Iriserende off on her first day's outing." Hans particularly gives a red-faced Anna, with the reins still clutched tightly in her tensed hands onboard the sleigh's driver's seat, a hardly noticeable raised brow. He naturally assumed the guilty girl would not wish to be called out to look so foolish as to have caused this unnecessary bout with danger before her worried husband's anxious eyes.

Anna's big blue-green eyes just stare back down at him. Her gaze then vacillates between the two mens' faceoff that she knew herself to be catalyst of.

"Like these?" Hopping up and down on his sleigh, a readily descriptive Olaf shakes about his two own arms in physical demonstration of said 'branches'.

"Twigs? How skittish is that pretty pony you chose?" Putting his fists away, Kristoff scoffs at the mere thought of the silly prancing horse being too touchy out on the open road as he supposed.

He gives a too agreeably smiling Hans an incredulous look, doubting the man's vaulted horsemanship for the first time.

"I _imagine_ I saw something dark and furry run across the path in between her hooves just moments before. Didn't you, Elsa? I thought I heard you say so." Rapunzel, her years of living close beside a natural born fibber of a thief for a husband, gives her stiff cousin an 'in' to help Hans out, hoping to mildly add some credibility to the poor, heroic man's cover story to save Anna's face before her guy.

"What was it?! What was it?! What was it?! A bunny? A dwarf? Or maybe a smew? Don't you love saying that word, 'smew?' He must be a cute, widdle ducky-wucky."

"Well, I…" Ignoring Olaf's inane ranting of ducks crossing the road, Elsa's voluminous eyes lock with Iriserende's similarly large ones as both were recipients of that man's soothing song this night to calm their ungovernable souls, before she clears her throat to come to her little sister's aid as well. "I did think I saw…a fox out there. Yes, it certainly was, a **red** fox." Elsa is carefully sure to speak the truth that would always _set one free_, according to the Good Book, although she was certain that the Ten Commandments were creaking on their stone tablets at her slightly stretched truth and mischievous glint in her eye.

However, from her honest and awestruck point of view, there was a boldly daring and dauntless red 'fox' of sorts out there in the dusky darkness playing with the horses. Elsa's big blues now lock with Hans' willing, comprehending greens with meaning. From the bemused smirk on his lips and questioning quirk of his noble brow upon her, Hans caught her drift entirely.

"Well, I guess that would do it to any beast—even ones familiar with these dark paths. Those wily foxes spring out of nowhere sometimes, as if they're possessed. Good thing you managed to calm the horse before she injured herself or Guddy, or even worse, crashed the sleigh. Good teamwork there, Anna. I'm proud of you. Looks like your sleigh driving training **has **paid off." Kristoff notes how his little wife was still doggedly clinging with tight fists to the reins clenched in her astonished fingers. Her mind was stunned at how Hans' little manipulative tale, meant to chivalrously cover a lady for honor's sake, snowballed until she came out smelling like a rose—and looking like a hero, rather than a witless troublemaker.

"Yeah! Teamwork! My driving skills and Hans' fearless horse…play…make a great combination." Her intriguing choice of combined terms makes the red-haired man, busy at work unhitching his horse, bring a similarly colored toned blush to his cheeks. Hans lets out a little embarrassed cough to match his abashed grin, which a shy-eyed Elsa yet again finds so alluring in this so-called worldly prince.

Anna herself couldn't believe the congratulatory words complimenting that guy were actually coming from her **own** mouth! But all the heroic daring-do and excitement was wearing at her resolve to hate Hans Westergaard forever as his gentle, trustworthy smile replays in her dizzy head.

_Is that the same one you gave Elsa that made her trust you so much?_

_ Maybe he's for real this time…I don't know!_

Anna deliriously ponders in some far reaches of her spinning mind as she half dives, half stumbles off the end of the secondary sleigh's driver's helm right into Kristoff's timely, strong arms.

"I gotcha, Baby." He croons in her ear as he scoops up his crazy trust exercising, overwrought with excitement wife to drape her compliant limp body in his amply muscular arms over Sven's welcome and sturdy back.

As Kristoff finishes unhitching Sven from the sleigh, his quick, experienced outdoorsman scan told him this would be a pretty good spot to set up camp, after all.

"Boy, Kristoff, being heroic, doing harrowing death defying sleigh riding stunts sure makes a girl sleepy." Anna yawns and mumbles. After a long day on the open road, starting with the early morning's seaside discoveries, and feeling it her sisterly duty to stand guard as sentinel over poor, delusional Elsa all the day long—she was plain tired.

"I know. You just take a little nap on Sven while he's enjoying a long drink at that stream over there. I'll fix everything here up. Go on, old buddy." Slapping Sven's grey rump affectionately, Kristoff doesn't even have to finish his final thought of "_make sure Anna doesn't slide off_." He already knew that trusty Sven understood his mind completely, as he watches his big, best friend reindeer and little best wife woman—both equally exhausted, amble over to the quiet stream's edge.

"Let's get these sleighs fixed up to bed the women." The male in Kristoff was now grateful for the choice of the covered sleigh as he looks up with a frown at the iffy cloud cover crossing the full moon that might yield a summer night rain shower on their traveling 'circus.'

But he wasn't too worried now that the two skinny little gals and the snowman would be able to safely stretch out under the sleigh's canvas roof, should the droplets choose to fall. So he tosses a few blankets and the female clothing bag into the emptied out Vis-à-vis to be ready for the females to all bunk out together for the night.

"You up for first or second shift?" Kristoff, after seeing to a tired out Sven with feed and deciding on a tree covered spot for his bedding, presumptively asks the older than he young man, almost ready to accept Hans now as a partner into this dangerous jaunt into the unknown, after a full day's travel proved that the 'spoiled' prince's true horse sense was unfeigned and worthy of note.

"There's too much excitement to be found out here in your glorious countryside for me to retire just yet. I'll gladly take the first shift, if it so pleases you, Mr. Bjorgman." Prince Hans gracious upperclass aristocratic tone still applied, even as he was kneeling at the muddy stream bank. He asserted himself to lower and scoop up two full large pails of water to carry back to their double sleigh camp area beneath that large birch tree they had both parked under.

"And where are you going with those? Never mind—I don't need to know. We'll start out again at daybreak. Come wake me up in four hours." Only half interested, a tuckered out Kristoff smirks as he lies out on the green grass to lean against an already slumbering Sven's furry body that Anna was still snoring loudly upon the back of the comfortable reindeer.

Kristoff wouldn't say that he'd had a tougher day than he was generally accustomed to. But from tending animals and chopping wood in the wee hours of the morning before dawn, then planning wracked brain best routes and setting out on the open road with this chaotic adventure full of snowmen, lizards and females—not to mention, criminals—the hardworking ice harvester was pretty drained.

But everything was all right, because Anna was right there with him—right at his arm's reach.

"…Yup, it pleases me."

Before Hans could avert his eyes when he discreetly finishes making sure Iriserende and Guddy were satisfied in drinking their fill of water, Kristoff's hungry arms do indeed reach out and capture his slumbering beauty, with his large yet tight muscled body totally covering hers like a cuddly bear—making any other blanket over Anna unnecessary.

An embarrassed and red-faced Hans makes his courteous exit as he graciously leaves the pair to their own open air evening's amusements.

He begins to make his quiet rounds through the clouded moon's dark night, back to the double sleigh camp where he brings one pail of water he had drawn from the clear stream to sit beside the covered sleigh, for the women, should they require any feminine ablutions before morning.

He purposely makes soft, clanging noises with the pail's dipper, so as not to frighten the pair of young women inside whom the young man outside could vividly imagine were getting ready for sleep. One would lay across each plush bench amidst the bevy of blanketing to ward off any cool chill, even on a summer night such as this was.

"I bid you 'good evening', ladies. Here is some fresh water for you. If you require anything else, please don't hesitate to call on me. I will be close by all night, so have no fear, and sleep securely." Hans announces to the thin air without glancing into the coach, for propriety's sake.

"Hey! Wait, Hans! Here's a blanket for you, if it gets too cold out there." Rapunzel sticks her neck out of the sleigh to offer the extra woolen covering to their dutiful guard.

"No, thank you, my lady. I'll be fine. Caring for the horses should help warm me up. Besides, the cold never bothered me anyway." He says with a tad of conceit of his own well regulated heat factor.

"Oo-kay…well, good night, Hans." Rapunzel says kindly, pulling the blanket back in with a smile.

"Good night, Princess." He responds smoothly.

Hans thinks to himself of all those cold early spring and late autumn adventures upon his beloved steed, Sitron's firm, tan blonde back, glinting gold in the moonlight. He had loved to pet, and curry and brush, until every horse hair on Sitron's muscular hide gleamed.

But another blonde mane, glimmering of gold in the scarce moonlight, peers her head from the sleigh, and captures his attention, mesmerizing him.

Hans pauses in mid-stride to bow his head to her respectfully.

The bare-shouldered queen bestows upon him a timid little approving nod and shy smile 'goodnight' all her own, which sends his uncertain-of-her-true-emotion-for-him heart soaring as high as the whooper swan that crosses the clearing moonscape sky towards the Vinje Fjorden's mouth it lived upon, not so far away.

Humming a contented tune now that Elsa had acknowledged him, Hans turns to go back to work for his team of unhitched horses, asking the serene moon if second chances were even possible for a man like him.

"He~ey! Wait up, Just Hans!" A strangely uncanny voice breaks through the still of the night, over to Hans. "I'm not sleepy at all. Can I help you groom the horses? I bet I'll be good at it, if you teach me how. Then, I'll be as good as you—good at sword fighting and singing, and dancing, and saving damsels in distress from out-of-control sleighs." After hopping down from the Vis-à-vis, a wide-eyed, sweetly pleading Olaf waddles alongside the long-limbed man who was genuinely trying to focus in all sanity to listen to the babbling snow creature.

But Hans was becoming more thoroughly ensconced in all things magical created at Queen Elsa's delicate, exquisite hands.

"I can imagine you will be, Olaf." Hans was not as condescending as he was bemused.

"Well, maybe not the sword fighting. I don't think I'd be too good at that. Mostly because I'm a peace loving snowman who abhors violence of any kind. Besides, splattered blood doesn't go well with my white snow. So I wouldn't like running somebody through with my sword at all. Woo! Ick! Bloody snow! Ooh! Bad!"

Olaf was quite animated in his explanation as he and Hans arrive where the horses were tethered to a thick trunked oak tree and Hans immediately begins to curry Iriserende.

"Uhn, uhn, uhn, ladies first, Guddy! Wait your turn, please!" Olaf chides the Dole Gudbrandsdal as the shorter ruddy brown steed nudges Hans' natural-born horseman's elbow for attention.

Hans fondly finishes both horses' currying, giving a keen Olaf some pointer tips as he feeds and cares for the steeds as if they were cherished friends, rather than new acquaintances, leaving Olaf chuckling with glee at each brush stroke.

"Stop it, Guddy." Olaf berates as the chestnut horse tries to take the obligatory nibble at his carrot nose.

"Would you like to try to brush out the plumes on Iriserende's lower legs? The effect is lovely when long and silky, but after a long day's drive, her silvery feathery fetlocks do tend to tangle. Besides, they're more at your comfort level." Hans kneels down to assess the strands of hair beneath the pale horse's knees and hocks. "They're called 'fetlocks' and they require a proper steadfast currying. Do you think you're 'snowman' enough to do it, Olaf?" Hans affably quips, he quite warming up to the cool little fellow.

"Are you kidding?!" Olaf was proudly in seventh heaven as he is trusted to do some **real** work at last. "Aye, aye, Admiral!" Olaf salutes in all seriousness at his learned lifeboat commander. For JustHans was patient and good enough to impart the knowledge most other men would not waste upon a snowman.

"Admiral? I'm afraid to disappoint you, my good snowman. But this sorry excuse for a prince never made it beyond the rank of First Lieutenant." With a regretful smile etched on his pretty features, and though Hans was an excellent officer in the Danish navy, as thirteenth in line, every one of his older brothers demanded to be of higher rank. So no promotions were ever to be in his future there—no matter how accomplished or heroic Master Hans Westergaard rose to be. "I'll never be worthy enough to be in the navy again." He says wistfully, full of regret that his unseemly crimes against this beautiful country made him be disowned in his own, too.

And that meant his officer's rank in the Royal Navy was stripped as well. _I deserved that, too…_

"Well, I think you would make a grand Admiral, Just Hans!"

"Why, thank you, my little friend. You probably are the only one to ever think so." Hans responds with an amused and slightly embarrassed smile.

"From what you were telling Cousin Rapunzel when we were in the lifeboat—of your sea voyages, and how good you are at cartography, navigation, geography and other skills, you sure sound sea worthy! After all, you got us across the sea to find Elsa! So, you'll have my vote. That is, if I was classed as a citizen and allowed to vote. Hey! You wanna sing a song about being an Admiral at sea instead? I know a real zinger!" Olaf starts humming to the horses whose tails were swaying in time with his happy tune.

Using this auspicious moment to take a walk around the perimeter, Hans' keen, sharp senses were never far from overlooking the pair of parked sleighs underneath the birch tree, where the emerging moon seemed to favor shining its brightest rays upon the little solitary group of travelers.

Hans turns his watchful eye until it rests upon a dutifully alert Pascal, who was at his post perched upon the canvas roof in midnight blue colored shades.

Though the coast was clear, both the chameleon and the tactician in Hans Westergaard were inexplicably uneasy tonight.

Hans instinctively felt something was amiss in the all too still atmosphere as the vigilant guard deftly produces a hidden dagger from its secreted place in the side of his tall black boot, as swift as the wind. He adeptly holds the weapon in a defensive stance, with the all too familiar glance of cold steel reflecting his determined eyes in its blade.

For in quiet surveillance of the five human, plus five animal (and/or snowman) friend adventurers who were currently at rest in this primarily unpopulated dark Midwest Norwegian plain, in the still of the moonlight, three mysterious figures silently move in the ominous shadows with something eerily dangerous shimmering within their darkened concealed grip…


	19. Chapter 18 - A Horse by Any Other Name

We do not own "Frozen" nor any of its characters.

"**Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"**

**Chapter 18**

**"A Horse By Any Other Name"**

But the dawn's morning sun begins to rise nonetheless after the moon relinquishes its watch over the uninterrupted night.

Dagger yet in hand as it had remained the entire restless night, Prince Hans stirs from his concealed vantage point close beside the parked Vis-à-vis sleigh, once an eagle-eyed scan of the tree-lined open plain is satisfied.

Was it tensed nerves on this clouded moonlit night? Or was it a biting conscience pricking its icy fingers into his heart again?

Hans could not tell all through this constantly guarded blackness where every one of his keen senses were wide awake and prepared for any incoming enigmatic danger - that never came.

_'He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.' (Psalm 91:4) _

_Praise be to the Lord, my God._

With that early, early morning prayer spoken on silent lips, Hans gazes beyond the sky whose deep purple Heavens have now turned lighter azure blue. After one more reassuring swift trek around the camp's perimeter to the quiet tree line, the tireless man sets about a new duty. God's blessed sunlight had lifted away any imaginary shadows from the fields, if not from his heart. as Hans Westergaard greets the coming sunrise of the day.

* * *

><p><em>And she's taking me back to the skies…Ah..Ahh…<em>

_**Chirp chirp chirp! **_More than songbirds were singing faintly from somewhere in this breaking dawn.

_Sniff, sniff, sniff! _"Mmmmhmm…that smells yummy, Kristoff! …Like bacon…you're such a yummy husband to cook bacon for me in the morning…" Princess Anna, in her slumbering non-morning person delirium, turns over on her comfortable pillow. Her cute little nose was aroused by the pleasantly pervading aroma coming from the camp nearby. She was so exhausted after yesterday's harrowing and unexpected events that she had slept like a baby—straight through, despite the nippy and cool summer night's open air 'canopy.' After all, Princess Anna had been upon her favorite and invitingly firm mattress, which just happened to be her big hubby's warm chest and compliant arms that had enveloped her small body in his equally exhausted embrace.

"Bacon? Morning? What time is it?" But her fuzzy bear Kristoff (whose shirt had somehow been unbuttoned to display his warm pecs and abs for his tiny little misses' benefit in the chilled night) awakens with claws bared as well. "Why didn't that fool wake me?!"

After his groggy eyes snap open, Kristoff unceremoniously jumps up, thusly plopping a squeaking Anna back down on a rudely awakened Sven's snorting back. Kristoff stands, adjusting his eyesight range in the new dawn's light to thankfully see both sleighs yet parked where he had left them. Both horses were still tethered to that same tree and that redheaded twit was kneeling down and singing some happy, soaring tune at the roaring campfire.

To boot, there was a certain helpful blonde sous chef already at his side, it appeared.

_Hmph. He's still here. Unfortunately._

Kristoff shakes off that queasy fear that had gripped his distrusting heart for a few disoriented moments, changing into a smirk of conversely relief and frustration as he stomps towards the pitched camp.

"Why the hell didn't you wake me up for my shift last night, pal?!" Kristoff tosses in the mild cuss word for effect as his limber body stalks up behind the pair of heads bent close together over the open flame.

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Bjorgman. I trust you slept well." Hans chooses to ignore the man's angry query and instead merely politely answer, as his hands deftly flip the thinly sliced ham and fatback intermingled in the pan over the roaring fire that it was nearly the bacon Anna's hungry nose had sensed earlier. "I wasn't tired, and felt alert enough to keep watch over the camp as yet. I also didn't want to disturb your lady wife in her slumber." Hans smiles in the direction of the stream. "I only wished for you to be fully rested for the next leg of our journey, sir. Please, forgive any distress I may have caused you."

Hans Westergaard was far too good at quickly fabricating deceitful excuses to admit to a fuming Kristoff in front of the pale blonde skittish lady's ears that he had detected prowlers about in the dark still of night.

"Prince Hans was **very** alert and vigilant in keeping watch for us all night. I can attest to that, Kristoff." Gazing up from the toasting bread station where she was kneeling, Elsa was doing her best to avert her delicate sensibilities from staring at Kristoff's muscular frame. Arendelle's Queen, who had emerged very early from her covered sleigh's cozy shared 'bedroom' with Rapunzel, after listening to the quiet sound of Hans' steady breathing from where he had leaned to perch just outside her section of the Vis-à-vis nearly all night, gives testimony to Mr. Westergaard's exemplary guard duty of their campsite.

"Doesn't anyone _**ever**_ listen to me when I talk? We _**have **_to take shifts at night to stay fully sharp-eyed of any danger—not go all 'gung ho' solo like some hero." Kristoff vents, waving his animated arms about until he remembers his open-chested shirt and bashfully buttons it up in the presence of the queen.

"Well, you follow orders next time, okay?" Kristoff's body that was indeed more fully rested than he might have been otherwise, causes the well-built blonde to be more forgiving. Upon hearing the queen's words that all seemed well and in order in the camp Kristoff's honesty couldn't deny the man's kindness and consideration.

But someone else's tiny pitchers of ears didn't look on Hans' selfless actions so kindly.

"And just _**how long**_ have you been out here, too, Elsa? Hmmm?" Anna, her unkempt dress in a state of mess, her braids all askew, comes charging up to the campfire scene where Elsa and Hans were rather too cozily leaning over the flames together, cooking the breakfast meal.

Well, that's all Anna hoped the pair had been 'cooking' last night after she had trusted them enough to fall soundly asleep on Kristoff's chest that served for her own bed.

"I…had another one of my bouts with insomnia, as you know well, Anna. I merely heard Prince Hans tending to the horses nearby with Olaf, from time to time. Good morning to you, too, little sister. Here, Anna, let me." Elsa calmly explains to her accusatory little 'marm' chaperone, ending it with a loving smile and big sister invite to fix up her baby sibling's messy braids of hair, as Elsa was wont to do each morning at the castle.

"Good morning, Elsa." Anna turns into a little girl again as she always gurgles whenever Elsa's delicate artful sculptor's hands take great pains to gently caress and straighten her frazzled orangey locks with a quickly produced comb from her grey Arendellian shawl's pocket folds.

Queen Elsa had a talent for hairstyling. Her own flawless blonde tresses still appeared picturesque even when loosed artfully, as her own long braid was this morning. The ever present golden comb was a necessity to the young woman who owned just a minute touch of vanity—enough to want to look presentable, no matter how early in the morning, for any audience, as any refined female of the day possessed.

Especially one of the 'red fox' variety who was sure to greet her first with his lonely eyes.

"Hey! Olaf and I got the horses all fed and watered and cleaned up to be ready to go soon, like you asked, Hans. Oh! You're finally awake, sleepyheads! Guess I can't blame you two, just a few days off your honeymoon…" In her insinuating mumbling way, knowing the joys of honeymooning well, Rapunzel, with Pascal on her shoulder and a hay sprig chewing Olaf waddling to catch up behind her, comes trotting back to the campfire.

"Morning, guys. Wow! You two! That smells incredible!" The older girl tries her best to be bubbly as she used to be every morning in her comically inventive ways to get Eugene's lazy bum out of bed during more happy days of marital bliss before all this started. Rapunzel bravely feigns a smile as she sniffs the air's savory scents.

"Howdy, pardners! Just been a-seeing to the horsies. What fixins' are you rustling up in that there pan?" Olaf was putting on a strange, foreign accent to match his straw chewing out of the side of his mouth and waddle-saunter as he and his private flurry join the group around the blazing fire.

"Oooh, look at that—so this is a 'campfire'!" An amazed Olaf reverts back to his naivete soon upon arrival. His entranced big black curious eyes can't help but reflect the glow of orangey reds and yellows as his two adventurous branch hands long to reach out and—

"Olaf." Although monitoring the frying ham in fatback on one side of the pan, as well as the large egg omelette cooking on the other end of the ingeniously built stone-pile level plateau for the wide pan to rest upon for proper frying temperatures, Hans still maintains an observant gaze, along with the quiet command to offer the snowman a warning glance.

"Aye, aye, Admiral JustHans!" With a seafaring salute, Olaf continues their friendly nautical themed banter, causing Hans to blush violently at the innocent, playful words of the simple snowman that he knew might cause a stir with—

"Don't call him that, Olaf! 'Admiral?' What silly Navy would recruit a **criminal** like **you **for their highest ranking position! Hah! As if!" Anna scoffs as Rapunzel directs her anger to help set the makeshift 'table' they had made from baskets in the sleigh they'd put side by side together to act as a low breakfasting counter.

A zipping up his mouth action Olaf shrugs up at the crimson-faced chef who gives him a rebuking raised eyebrow back. Just then, Elsa suddenly gasps after burning her distracted fingers upon checking the ice pick she was using to toast the bread on.

"Elsa! Are you all right?" Hans immediately drops his own cooking utensil to grasp the girl's injured fingers within his, even as the ice already forming at her lightly burned fingertips is transferred onto his warm ones. But Hans doesn't even flinch.

"I'm…fine." Elsa breathes in pleasant surprise when a fearless Hans instinctively raises her singed three middle fingers to his lips and kisses them, causing her involuntary cryogenics to reduce intensity at his soothing touch.

All thoughts of her own scorched digits disappear in his kind eyes and tender lips, still at her fingertips, amidst this rising dawn's light.

"She _**said **_she was fine! You really don't listen, do you, pretty boy?!" Anna's eyes flash at him as she none too delicately, in neither word nor touch, grabs Elsa's slightly charred, but ice cooled hand in hers. She hauls her sister off with her to the makeshift table and forces them both down to sit. "I'm hungry. When do we eat?" Anna demands, pounding both fork and knife on the table to vent her anger.

"Anna! Manners, please!" Elsa chides, as her throbbing heart finally stops racing enough to look up at Hans from where she and her little sister were first to be seated at the basket counter. Both girls were kneeling on the grass for their seats at this outdoor buffet.

Kristoff returns just then from seeing to Sven to add the thirsty reindeer to the two horses already drinking at the stream's edge where Rapunzel and Olaf had left them.

"What did I miss?" Kristoff hunkers down at his glowering wife's side. Elsa's arm was still firmly linked with hers possessively. His imagination didn't need to go much to see that there had been some sort of emotional fracas before he had arrived.

"You missed the hidden culinary talents of Queen Elsa's deft hand—that is, before she seared those poor delicate fingers, Alas!—whipping up this excellent Aeggepandekage for us to be thankful for." The head chef gives his lissome assistant an obliged gently smiled nod.

"And thank you, Lord, for all You've provided we earthly travelers on our journey. Amen." Hans bows his head with this short morning meal devotional before their gathered table, to which a pleased Elsa, an extra mumbled behest added Rapunzel, a bemused Kristoff watching his Anna go from fuming to reverent in 10 seconds of recited prayer flat, and even a sanctified looking Olaf and pastel pink Pascal join in.

"Breakfast is served. Everyone, please do be careful, the pan is rather hot. But we seem to be at a loss for fine porcelain dishware at this auspicious al fresco repast of ours." Hans then lays on the charm thick as he, with a helpful Rapunzel, who had taken up Elsa's task by saving the only slightly blackened toast from being totally swallowed by the flames when they fell in earlier, carefully serve the whole pan of 'bacon' adorned herb encrusted omelette with the fancy Danish name to sit upon the little low table.

"Whoa…that is one big omelette. Did you use up **every one** of the eggs that the old fisherman's wife had packed in that basket?" Kristoff didn't mean to complain, for his growling stomach was grateful. But the conscientious man knew a thing or two about scarce supply conservation on the open road that he doubted this rich prince did.

"Well, upon inspecting our 'larder', so to speak, Olaf and I discovered that probably due to last evening's unfortunately bolting circumstance, the satchel filled with the eggs did not fare so well." Hans begins to explain his actions of forced culinary resource.

"They were all cracked up and gooey and yellow dripping everywhere on the white cloth of the basket they were wrapped in! Ewww! Icky! Yuck! White and yellow do _**NOT**_ go together." Olaf shivers at the splattered ochre thought as his eager-to-spill lips come unzipped suddenly.

"So how did you guys salvage enough to make this? It's really tasty! You have to give me the recipe. I know Eugene will…love it." Imagining her dearest boy was nearby, a sad Rapunzel takes another mouthful with one of the golden spoons that were blessedly saved in the cake box that had not been chucked overboard by an overzealous Anna. "How did you manage it?" She recovers quickly.

"JustHans is not just good with swords, and singing, and dancing—and horses and cooking. He's good at straining broken eggs with a cheesecloth, too! And he taught me how, so now I can rescue every egg you smash up dancing in the kitchen when you steal a brand new crumb cake in the kitchen when Gerda isn't looking."

"That only happened once! Okay, twice." Anna cries out, guiltily remembering after she gulps down another forkful of the delicious egg, cream and herb concoction that Elsa (and Hans) had created.

Elsa had briskly stirred the retrieved eggs whilst Hans, after slicing up the ham and fatback for a bacon facsimile, expertly identified some forest herbage to select for the cookery spicing that a nimble fingered Pascal gleaned.

"He~ey…" Though she was busy stuffing her face, the word 'cake' abruptly reminded Anna of something special. "Wasn't this the metal platter that Gerda served our kransekake on?" Anna's suspicious wide-eyes wildly examine the once totally flat, fancy embossed metal plate that somehow must've been bent and fashioned to work as a dumb old frying pan instead of her all-important cake platter.

"Uh-oh…" Putting his only utensil butter knife on the table, Kristoff was glad he had just finished choking down his breakfast. He had had a feeling there wasn't going to be any peace at this table for much longer, if he knew where his little firecracker was going with this.

_**Ba-Boom!**_

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE REST OF MY KRANSEKAKE WEDDING CAKE, HANS WESTERGAARD!?" Like a raging tempest, Anna explodes, jumping to her feet with an accusing finger pointed at the wide-eyed and innocent looking man, who swallows the remainder of the small piece of 'bacon' on his omelette nearly whole.

"Y-your wedding cake? Oh…Do forgive us." A gulping Hans swallows hard, feeling rather small and inadequate as Anna storms over the baskets to glare down at him.

Mere inches away from his scared face, her hands ball into fists before being stuck firmly on each of her jutting out hips. "Why do **you** always want to ruin **everything **for me?!" She demands with a weeping whine, looking more like a thundering dark cloud about to storm than a pigtail braided sweet girl.

"Well, it was all cracked and smashed up and really unsalvageable to even recognize. So I tasted how sweet and saccharinely sugary it was." Olaf 's blissfully smiling mouth smacks lips together at the early morning mouthwatering recollection. "And then we fed the rest to Guddy. Iriserende turned her nose up at it—I guess because no lady would want a broken up, crumbly mess of—" Dropping the other shoe, Olaf coolly informs the fate of Anna's precious prediction wielding of children to come superstitious wedding cake tradition.

"You **fed** Guddy **my** wedding cake...? Guddy **ate** the rest of my kransekake cake…?" Anna's steaming anger turns into a wobbly-kneed whining of dreams dashed. Kristoff's long legged leap over the low table showed he had already anticipated this break down result, just in time to steady his lively wife's whimsical overacting. "Now we'll never have those six babies, Kristoff!" Anna's inexplicably plaintive shrieked words causes her to collapse into an exasperated and embarrassed to no-end Kristoff's understanding chest. These hysterics quite perplex Hans with the hysterical disconnect.

The furrowed brow man reaches a hand across the table to zip up Olaf's troublemaking mouth again and it surprisingly shuts—tightly this time, as Elsa and Rapunzel both appear to be suppressing giggles at their littlest 'sister's' sweet, yet saucy, endearing personality that never ceased to entertain.

"I am truly sorry—I didn't realize the crumbs of that cake meant so much to her. Now she'll probably hate me even more, if that's possible." Pouring the remainder of the water buckets onto the campfire to put out every ember, Hans whispers to the two remaining females in attendance, as Kristoff picks up an almost despondently weeping Anna to load her onto Sven's sleigh. He then hitches the fed and rested sorrowful eyed at Anna Sven up to get a move on in the wee early morning hours of daybreak.

"Anna's Anna. She wears all her hopes and dreams on her sleeve. But that's why we love her." Rapunzel answers as she, Olaf and Pascal help Elsa clear up the now scattered table to have Hans lift the heavy baskets neatly onto the Vis-à-vis sleigh. That's when Elsa touches his arm lightly.

"Anna's heart is too good and pure inside to ever 'hate' anyone for long." Elsa says softly with her own set of hopes and dreams riding on a sleeve never to be seen in the light of day.

"Thank you for that, as well as the wonderful meal you permitted me to help you create." After a moment spent absorbing her words, Hans rebounds with a tease, once his own heartfelt gratitude is conveyed for her indulgent generosity extended to his remorseful soul concerning her sister.

"And where do you think you are going with that, Your Majesty?" Back in the swing, Hans familiarly grasps her wrist to halt Elsa's steps as she starts walking towards the stream with that criminal, formerly kransekake pan greedily devoid of their combined efforts in hand.

"To wash it clean in the waters of the stream." Elsa was not trying to be poetic, nor philosophical, though her platinum blonde hair, aglow in the fresh sunlight, had its own lyrical effect on the young man who had spent a sleepless night dreaming of her.

"Your Majesty, please if I may—" Hans begins to chivalrously step in. But again, Elsa would not play the part of the helpless maiden, though his persuasive hand was yet affixed to her wrist.

"No. No, you may not." In this second, the pair are both transported back some two years to their first encounter, when the exchange between them was much the same, though the sentiment passing between their eyes now was decidedly different from what it was then.

Hans nervously clears his throat, believing this the correct moment to pose the burning question on his heart again.

"And what of you, Queen Elsa? Is a worthless man worthy for a pure heart to forgive past wrongs?" He dares ask her crystal clear blue eyes tentatively, his guilt-ridden ones begging, in this everlasting moment, for a precious second chance.

"Forgiveness comes from a heart that truly loves the Lord. And mine walks with Him always." Calmly composed Elsa gives an encouraging, glorified smile, just as dazzling to Hans' beholden, grateful eyes as her absolving words. His hungry soul was beginning to hope against hope for this paramount reward of the essential gift of her requisite forgiveness at last.

"I'll be right back. Please hitch the horses to the sleigh so we can depart." Sounding all regal, though feeling tremulous inside, a touched Elsa was certain there were glistening tears forming suddenly behind those soft, velvety green pastures of his eyes. Hans finally gives up claim to her slim wrist and Elsa continues on towards the rushing stream, unchallenged, and pleased.

Hans' grateful, humbled gaze follows her every graceful step as the sun completes its ascent into the sky, taking his praising heart along with it.

* * *

><p>Once the pair of well rested horses are hitched and everything packed up, Hans directs Iriserende and Guddy to follow Kristoff and Sven's sleigh back to the road where they briskly travel another forty kilometers alongside the glimmering waters of the Vinjefjorden all the sunny morning long.<p>

"Anna's prettier than most people  
>Sven, don't you think that's true?<br>She's got a cute smile, makes life worthwhile  
>With a nice behind in those feisty pants<br>Through and through"

Kristoff had kept Anna preoccupied with his singing while he bravely tackles trying to teach his all-thumbs gal the magic of playing the lute as they drive.

The instrument's poor, battered and bruised strings were never so tested, nor were Kristoff's ears, but Anna was slowly finding her effervescent smile back again in its chords.

"We **STILL** can try." Dejectedly slapping the poor relieved lute back over the sleigh's front seat to the back, as if the broken superstition was its fault, Anna comments out of nowhere to the noonday sky.

"You can count on that, Baby." The strapping lad verbalizes his sentiment upon finishing his 'yoik', for, as part Sami, this form of poetic musical expression was part of Kristoff's makeup. He leans his blonde head over to her adorably agitated one to capture a lasting, tongue-tied kiss. His one unencumbered big hand freely wanders down her tensed spine to explore, with the newly inspired song still fresh in his spry young mind.

"You're a good guy, Kristoff." Anna concludes in all seriousness, meeting his brown gaze that always brought a smile back, even when she was bummed.

"Thanks for noticing." Kristoff was gratified he could be sure that Anna preferred his simple song to the more flashy and smooth, with big words and lofty high ranged melody of that former fiancé of hers.

Picking up Kristoff's thoughts, Anna wishes her eyes really **WERE** in the back of her head. Her neck was aching something fierce for the constant swiveling around to check up on the goings on of that certain sleigh driver behind them.

But when Hans innocently catches one of her glaring looks, he amiably gives a little wave of hopeful, waggling fingers to which Anna tersely flips back around forward, rather than acknowledge him.

"That jerk! Do you think he's a danger to Elsa, Kristoff?" Anna whispers fiercely again what's been eating at her the whole trip thus far, as if Hans could hear her from where he was several sleigh lengths back. She vehemently continues on her abnormally pensive and sober state of mind as she turns to her husband for his advice on the pressing matter—for once.

"Look, they're not alone. Your cousin Rapunzel is back there, with Olaf, too. And, don't worry, Elsa still can be pretty mean with that ice of hers. So, I'd pity that guy if he tried to get fresh. I for one wouldn't mess with the so-called '_Snow Queen'_ if I were him, 'cause it could get pretty cold down in Southern Isle prince's _southern regions_, if you get my drift." Even experienced married man Kristoff's ears go bright red by the time he finishes his embarrassing statement.

"**NO!**_ Ick_! I meant **really **dangerous stuff!" Anna spazzes out at her totally male hubby's icky incorrect take on her deeper meaning suppositions.

"Oh." With a little smirk at his 'mistake,' Kristoff huffs with a sigh, to glance over his shoulder at the scrawnier man with the lovesick look on his face.

"Nah, just look at him. He's in pretty sad shape."

Anna does just as her husband directs, physically spinning in her seat to take a long gander at that despicable redhead, whose sweet treacly, droopy puppy-dog eyed expression made her almost reconsider her question.

_He __**does**__ look like a lovesick puppy. I don't think that's what he looked like when he and I were—_

"Not that long." Kristoff's slighted, semi-jealous voice calls Anna's attention back to present day reality. His sideways look and rough hand readjusting her chin to face him or forward, gives his little wife her walking orders.

"He seems kinda 'de-fanged' to me, since we found him—beat up by those pirates, and all for protecting your sister." Kristoff assesses in his honest, fair-minded way.

"Oooh! This is crazy! All because of that stupid Eugene we have to rescue now! You know, _**EUGENE**_? Hans' big brother!" Stolen treasures, pirate ships and Hans Westergaard's reappearance all took their toll as Anna vents her frustration fully now that poorly feeling Rapunzel was out of earshot.

Suddenly, a bell goes off in her revolving brain.

"I know! Since you don't think he's too dangerous anymore, I'll just let Elsa have this nutty, insane fling with him—and then when he breaks her heart, that'll be the end of it, once and for all! Then, I'll go to work to find her a proper prince and—"

"W-whoa! Wait! You're _**hoping**_ he breaks her heart? That sounds kind of mercenary for the good gal I married." Kind hearted Kristoff didn't like at all the way that man's presence affected his sweet Anna's disposition.

"Yeah, but…that's the best way to get him out of her system! Totally like I did!" Anna's relationship with Kristoff was so honest and genuine that she could speak about her past near misses with another man as if Kristoff was her best friend.

Because, beyond her reestablished sisterhood with Elsa, he was.

"But you had _**ME**_ to fill up those cracks in your heart. Might not be so easy for your sister if it all falls apart for her. She's different than you." Kristoff was more of a love expert than he gave himself credit for. All those childhood years of growing up under love guru Bulda's thumb must've lodged somewhere in his thick skull.

"Don't be silly! Of course she'll forget him! We're sisters! She's exactly like…me…?" But by the end of bright-eyed Anna's fierce admission, upon self-circumspection it transmutes into more of a frowned realization that Elsa was _**NOT**_ 'exactly like her.'

"You're right…Why does life have to be so hard when we grow up?" Anna gives up her headaching contemplation as she tugs at her frazzled double braided ends fairly hard before Kristoff's muscle-toned warm arm reaches out to welcome her perplexities in.

"I dunno. 'Cause I'm not a 'love expert,' remember? But I do know that Elsa's a smart cookie and you did say you were going to trust her with knowing her own heart, right?" Kristoff tries to imagine what Cliff and Bulda and the rest of the singing and dancing troll crew would say about the man they once prescribed to '_get the fiancé out of the way and the whole thing will be fixed!'_

_Well, he's __**IN**__ the way again—and trying to make a comeback now with Anna's big sister. But is he truly __**in love**__ with Elsa this time? Problem is, he was so oily and conniving before—I can't tell if he's for real now. It's about now I really miss my troll family. Words have never been easy. You'd know what to say for me._

"But you don't have to listen to me. I'm just an average, working-class kind of guy." The brawny man admits aloud, keeping the remainder of his own counsel and his worries to himself.

"You could've fooled me, my big, lovable hunk of semi-sweet chocolate." Her anxiety settling down in her new husband's mellow voice, Anna combines two of her favorite tastes in the world—dark chocolate and Kristoff Bjorgman into one adored treat.

She wraps herself entirely around the firm bicep arm of her rock—her Kristoff, as his caring anchors Anna from all the concerns and questions obviously preying on her mind for her beloved sibling's welfare in Elsa's first timid steps into matters of the heart.

"I love you, too, Baby." He responds in her hair, not even needing to give Sven a clicking tongue signal of 'giddyap' for the intuitive beast to put some speed on as the sleigh moves across the country into this second leg of their strange journey.

* * *

><p>Many kilometers into their drive, Hans Westergaard's heavy-lidded eyes were finding it hard to stay open. He hadn't slept in over forty hours, but that wasn't entirely to blame.<p>

_There've been longer stints of sleep deprivation._

It was more the monotonous plains and endless roads on this rocky, barren stretch of land that was far less than inspiring to a lately freed imagination longing for the green grasses and golden fields he'd been deprived of seeing when trapped below decks on that pirate ship.

That or the fact that his passengers had chosen to grow rather silent for the last ten kilometers or so.

"How is she?" Leaning backwards and down without losing the tautness of the imbalanced reins, a lithe, ambidextrous Hans reaches his flexible neck back as far as it could without snapping to whisper almost directly into Elsa's semi-startled ear, as she was seated with her back to him in the Vis-à-vis car.

"Sleeping." But as Elsa's quickly swiveled head leans back to speak with him in a similarly concerned whisper, their lips nearly brush. The mortified young woman snaps her head back around to see Olaf, whom she had ordered to keep his bantering mouth zipped shut since Cousin Rapunzel fell ill (fatback and bacon may not have been too good an idea, though it was too tasty for her to pass up) 'blink, blink' up at her, before going back to his silent swaying in his singing, ice cube brain. He swings back and forth rhythmically seated beside his red-faced queen.

"Lucky her. _**Yawn.**_ Do pardon me."

Elsa just makes out Hans' softly spoken, tired words and courteously quick pardoned covered yawn to the wind.

That's when the icy queen decides that her company out there may be more convenient than either he or she being silent and alone.

Truer words were never spoken.

"May I…join you out there in this magnificent, fresh open air?" A demure Elsa politely asks, though already squeezing her slim, sleek form through the front sleigh car opening before he answers. This snow Queen employs a diamond bijou display of her ice prowess to strategically balance her scintillating high heels in between the fast moving vehicle's suspension coupling, almost mid-air.

"My lady! That's dangerous!" A groggy eyed Hans warns when Elsa, her ice glazed body practically floating upon the well-controlled frosted rimes of water vapors in the air beneath her capered feet, rather agilely climbs out from the passenger car (as a leaping Anna did yesterday with unhappy results) to gracefully perch beside him on the driver's bench. Again, withstanding the bitter cold of her lustrous icy touch, Hans' stable hand was offered and accepted to help her gracefully alight.

"Since Cousin Rapunzel is peacefully asleep, I thought you may prefer some company to not." Though her trained ice was relaxing, Elsa was finding it more difficult to be as bold and daring as she imagined she could be, when, with the horses' reins clamped tightly in his hands, the stiffened man's now wide-awake eyes were fixated upon hers in an unwavering, unreadable stare that was both appreciated and discomfiting to the shy queen.

Elsa folds her fidgety hands together, as was her habit when she was in nervous doubt.

"Am I wrong?" Elsa asks, her voice quivering. That old, cold gnawing unwelcome feeling was creeping up inside again.

"Forgive me." Hans shakes himself, too, from his brown study. "It's only…I always entertained a dream of driving horses alongside the woman I…" Hans trails off here, for only in his half-conscious state would the guarded man have admitted his childish dream to anyone—let alone her.

But the unmatched team must've sensed his unrest. Their speeds divert from one another, ever so slightly, calling his attention back to them.

"Whoa, there, girl. Iriserende, bring that trot to a canter until Guddy can pick up the pace, please. Giddap, Guddy." Hans almost sings his soft commands that are almost instantly complied to by the two now re-balanced equines.

"You are truly proficient with them, aren't you…Hans?" The queen's utterance of his first name sends Hans' senses soaring yet again. He was grateful for the cool breeze whipping in his face to keep him grounded. "I, too, love horses. Especially noble breeds such as Friesians and Fjord horses." Elsa deftly changes the subject to a more conversational topic.

"Yes, Fjord horses are incomparable…Elsa." He returns the familiar name with a sweet smile. "No reflection on dear old Guddy, but I do wish my own Sitron was here. I've often wondered whatever became of my poor horse, during my rightful, indentured punishment." Lowering his already soft tone, as for neither horse to overhear, Hans murmurs to the baking overhead sun. His closed eyes and upturned head drinks in its rays. He recalls such summer days of swift winds and blazing sun, spent flying along crested hillsides, over mountains and meadow and glen—by the seat of his pants upon his noble steed's strong, golden back.

Elsa watches Prince Hans' closed eyes reminisces of riding astride his beloved friend in past glory days of youth.

"Sitron? Is that his name? He's fine." After a few more moments of enjoying his handsome features glowing with the pride and fond memories of him and his favorite horse, Elsa pipes up.

Hans' intense, inquisitive gaze and intrigued eyes suddenly snap open upon her, causing the Queen to avert her own. She was half-sorry she had spoken up out of place to interrupt the man's reverie.

But she plows on nonetheless.

"After you…left…I made certain your horse was cared for at the palace stables." Elsa answers, marveling at the strange attraction she had for the handsome golden stallion.

"You still have him!? How is he? Is he eating well? He's still rather finicky, isn't he? Does he miss me? I mean—have you perhaps glimpsed him around the stable when you go riding?" Not a shred of exhaustion left in his body now, Hans recovers by firing off enthusiastic questions, one after the other, like an eager schoolboy in the hopes of hearing something of his one and only childhood companion—equine or no.

"Oh, dear…!" Elsa chuckles at how sweet and innocent the adult man beside her seemed when speaking of his close friend. "When last I saw him, he appeared quite content—especially with the fresh offerings of Arendelle's wild blackberries that I pick for him each morning, when we ride up to the hill where they grow each summer." Elsa's own vivid recollections show on her lovely features, of pleasant summer afternoons spent wandering her castle's grounds upon the golden Fjord horse with the long, feathery tail whom she had befriended in his rider's absence.

"You…_personally_…cared for Sitron yourself, Queen Elsa?" Amazed and astounded, Hans' gorgeous green eyes illuminate at the realization of the Arendelle Sovereign's compassionate kindness bestowed upon the—albeit blameless—horse that belonged to the man who had wronged her, even to the point of attempting to—

_How could I have been such a fool?_

Hans' regretful heart is touched to the core by this beautiful woman's selfless benevolence.

"Oh! Yes, I hope you don't mind that I started riding him to give him exercise. But when we found we liked each other so well, he and I never stopped going out for our daily early morning run after chapel. I do pray I haven't spoiled his fine training with all those berries and treats in the afternoons after our trot around the shore." The elegant blonde turns rather cute as she bites her hesitant lower lip, uncertain if she had overstepped her bounds here.

"Mind? Not at all! I couldn't be more pleased that Sitron was so well looked after!" Hans was genuinely smiling from ear to ear by now. Elsa was pleased that she pleased him so. "Thank you, Queen Elsa. Sitron means the world to me."

"No, you needn't thank me. Caring for…Sitron…each morning has been my…delight. He's a very special, well-mannered, wonderful horse. You should be very proud of him." Elsa compliments the man's lifelong equestrian companion.

"Sitron has been fortunate to have deserved such particular royal attention from the kingdom's ruler herself." Hans marvels at his beloved steed's good luck these past two years, as compared to his own punished fate.

_But Sitron did no wrong. I, and I alone am to blame for all my unscrupulous actions._

"Sitron…I'll have to get used to that name. Yes, it fits him perfectly." Elsa concedes after a moment's reflection of associating that particular name with that particular stallion.

"What name did you assign him, if I may inquire, out of curiosity? After all, a horse by any other name…" Hans was so giddy with excitement that his Sitron was so blessed to be safe and fawned over that he was rather waxing poetic.

"Ohh!" But when the pale queen suddenly reddens at such an innocent query, Hans' curiosity was more than piqued.

"You must've called him something." He prompts with a growingly inquisitive smile.

"Yes, of course. I called him…'Prince…Prince Ha…'" Elsa, mid answer, realizes how self-incriminating the moniker she had assigned for the stallion belonging to the man who haunted both her nightmares and dreams these past two years, sounded for the noble Fjord horse.

Hans was giving her his all-entrancing green eyes encouragement to go on, right now, Elsa compelled to reply.

"Prince Hansome." Mortally embarrassed at her whispered revelation, she covers her mortified with shame eyes, biting her bloodless lips dry. Her cheeks flared hotly which was a new sensation for this snow queen.

Prince Hans' (the human one) vanity was fueled by the obvious derivative of Queen Elsa's choice of titled descriptives to name the horse that belonged, as she well knew then and still does now, to the comely young man sitting so close beside her that she wished she could become invisible. With all of these revelations, Hans' flushed head was so reeling that he had the feeling that the road was no longer beneath them any longer. His intensely flushing equally diverted eyes join in a mutual blush, until he finely divines to break the uncomfortable silence to say:

"Quite a noble name to flatter any stud." Stealing a bashful glance at the woman with the beautiful blonde mane glowing in the sunlight beside him, Hans' then naughty, teasing eyes peek over out their side to be rewarded by a sheepish Elsa sneaking a coy look beneath long lashes back at him.

Her pretty mouth lifts without a shred of fear into a radiant smile amidst their shared, soft laughter tinkling through the ethers as both bask in the noonday sun's brilliance.

Iriserende and Guddy look back to see what all the mirth was about between their driver and the pale woman laughing beside him on their horsedrawn sleigh. The seemingly endless kilometers Hans felt before now melt under the forgiving, merciful, hopeful gaze of the brightest star in the galaxy, who deemed to lower herself down far enough from the heavens to grant undeserving him company...

_She's my angel—with the dust of the stars in her eyes…_

Even the formerly drab achromatic road's milieu morphs into vividly glowing, lush foliage—full of life and beauty, as the horses now run in perfect sync reflected in the Vinjefjorden's bluest of blue mirror running parallel with the shimmering sleigh.

Though a dark shadow followed in the clear water's reflection not too far behind…


End file.
